Chapter 3

Ramsgate

An Hour Later

The brisk sea breezes tugged at dark navy skirts and hat-ribbons, teasing playfully at the straw bonnets on the ladies' heads. Elizabeth reached up to push hers more securely down on her wayward curls and wrapped her other hand tightly around the palm and wrist of her little cousin. Thomas trotted gaily at her side, swinging his small wood cup merrily. Ahead of them, Agnes, the neatly clad nursemaid, held onto Susannah's hand, the young girl protectively clutching her own cup. Phoebe walked sedately beside her governess, her pail held neatly in one gloved hand.

They could hear the ocean roaring away off to their side. There was no sign yet of the sun-warmed sands that were their destination, and the children, eager to play on the shore, had to be held back to keep them from running. Their eagerness was not helpful for their awareness of the world around them, and all three of the women kept a wary eye on the traffic in the streets as they made their way to the beach.

"Look at how big the ocean is!" Phoebe exclaimed as the group crossed the road to attain the walk that paralleled the ocean.

"It is," Elizabeth agreed.

"I want sand!" Master Thomas Gardiner, age three, declared.

"Of course you do," Elizabeth said merrily. "Now come along, children; we can make our way down to the beach itself via Jacob's Ladder, which is right over there."

The children were pleased with the Ladder. Thomas giggled happily, hopping down every step as the party wound their way down the wooden stairs which zig zagged back and forth, while Elizabeth gripped his hand firmly. Agnes and Susannah followed a few steps behind them, and Phoebe and Mrs. Simpson brought up the rear. The wood thundered hollowly beneath their enthusiastic footsteps, the children's excitement mounting the nearer they got to the soft golden sand below.

It was but a short walk from the ladder down to the beach, and there the children released the hands of their guardians to scatter, squealing loudly, across the sand. Elizabeth tipped her head back towards the sky, stealing a moment to let the sun warm her face and caress her hair. The warmth was a pleasant counterpoint to the rather chill breezes, and she relished the contrast of it on her skin.

The children's cries of excitement and a firm admonition from Agnes brought her attention back to earth. Phoebe was attempting to organize her siblings, and the three little Gardiners were starting to build a sandcastle. Susannah was willingly bringing over cupfuls of sand, while Thomas more or less obediently dug a moat with enthusiasm.

Mrs. Simpson spread out her blanket and sat down, careful to position herself so that she could observe the children. Agnes bent to help Susannah, who had started to pull her shoes and stockings off. Thomas, a little further away and very determined, needed no such assistance. Elizabeth watched with a touch of envy; she was too old now to do the same, but she had no doubt that the sand felt glorious.

Once all three young ones were occupied, Elizabeth wandered down to the water's edge to gaze out towards the blue horizon. White seabirds swooped low overhead, crying out to one another, their voices sharp over the hissing and swishing of the waves. There was no one else on the beach, and Elizabeth stripped off her gloves with guilty pleasure to bend and dabble her fingers through the wavelets expiring on the sand at her feet.

But she was not permitted this pleasure for long before Phoebe appeared at her elbow.

"Lizzy! Come and help us find shells and decorate our castle!" the seven-year-old urged.

"Of course," Elizabeth agreed, turning back to assist her little cousins. Thomas had found a large glob of seaweed and was cackling gleefully as he chased a shrieking Susannah with it, his spirits unimpaired when he stumbled. Agnes intervened, a trace exasperated, and Elizabeth hid a smile as she followed Phoebe up to the half-completed sandcastle.

A full hour passed in these pursuits, with Elizabeth helping Phoebe perfect the increasingly elaborate castle with occasional glances around the beach and up to the boardwalk to determine whether they were still alone. On the fifth scan, her eyes landed on Miss Darcy, gliding down the boardwalk with Mrs. Younge a few feet behind her. The young lady obviously observed Elizabeth, and she smiled and dipped her head; her arms were too full of paints and canvas and brushes to lift a hand in greeting.

Elizabeth smiled in return, hastily pulling her gloves from her pocket and tugging them back on. Before she could wave or call out, however, a gentleman carrying a painting easel hurried to take his place next to Miss Darcy. Elizabeth watched as the man attained the little overlook and set it up for the young lady.

"Mrs. Simpson, Agnes," Elizabeth said impulsively, "might you be willing to watch the children for a few minutes? I see an acquaintance."

"Of course, Miss Bennet," the governess replied, and Elizabeth gathered her skirts and hurried up the wooden staircase. It was a long climb, and steep, and she was a trifle breathless when she reached the street above. She turned toward Miss Darcy and began to walk, aware once again of the great pleasure of the salt scented ocean breezes on her flushed face.

Miss Darcy had obviously been watching her, because when Elizabeth came upon the young lady, charmingly attired in a blue walking dress and a different straw hat from the previous day, the girl smiled eagerly. Mrs. Younge had placed a stool in front of the easel, and the man guided Miss Darcy to take her place on it. Now that Elizabeth was face to face with the newcomer, she observed that he was remarkably handsome. He was not much over the common height, but was blessed with intense blue eyes, a fine figure, and a handsome countenance which was rendered even more attractive by a charming smile. He was also dressed very well in a blue coat and pale breeches, with a modest but perfectly arranged cravat around his neck, polished boots on his feet, and a top hat over his dark curls.

"Miss Bennet! I am pleased to see you again," Miss Darcy said, drawing Elizabeth's attention.

"It is delightful to see you too," she replied and then turned to her companion. "I hope you are well today, Mrs. Younge?"

"I am very well, thank you," the woman replied, though Elizabeth had the distinct feeling that she was not particularly welcome. A moment later, it occurred to her that if Miss Darcy was one of the Derbyshire Darcys, Mrs. Younge might have the responsibility of keeping her charge away from stray women on the streets of Ramsgate.

She felt herself flush uncomfortably and said, "I did not mean to intrude, but when I saw you…"

"Oh, I very much wished to speak to you," Miss Darcy interrupted. "We are not acquainted with anyone else in Ramsgate. Now, before I go any further, might I introduce my friend?"

Elizabeth relaxed, nodded, and turned an interested look on the gentleman, who was looking at her with a pleased expression.

"Miss Bennet, may I please introduce my friend Mr. Wickham? Mr. Wickham, Miss Bennet of Hertfordshire, whom we met yesterday."

Elizabeth curtsied, and Wickham bowed. Elizabeth said, "It is wonderful to meet you, sir. I hope you are enjoying your time in Ramsgate as much as I am?"

"Yes, very much," the gentleman replied and looked at Miss Darcy. "It is a great pleasure indeed to enjoy not only the sea air, but to spend hours with an old and dear friend."

"You are a friend of the family then, Mr. Wickham?"

"A very dear friend," Miss Darcy said, looking adoringly at the gentleman. "He grew up on my family's estate in Derbyshire, you see."

"Oh!" Elizabeth exclaimed and then, at the questioning look of the others, continued, "My aunt grew up in a little town called Lambton, and she was well aware of the Darcys of Pemberley. Is that your home, Miss Darcy?"

There was an odd pause, and Elizabeth, who had been watching Georgiana, glanced over to Mrs. Younge and observed a strange look on her face, which quickly smoothed away into stoic calm.

"It is indeed," Georgiana exclaimed, "and I have been to Lambton many times. There is a delightful confectionary shop there."

"That sounds marvelous," Elizabeth said with a grin. "I adore a good confectionary shop."

"Have you ever been to Lambton, Miss Bennet?" Mrs. Younge asked.

"Oh no! My father's estate is in Hertfordshire, and my aunt has been settled in London these many years; I do not believe she has been in Lambton in nearly two decades."

She watched in some surprise as Mrs. Younge openly relaxed and then found herself distracted by a sharp cry from below.

Elizabeth glanced down at the beach below and observed Tommy rolling around on the sand in a paroxysm of indignation, and she said, "I must leave you to your painting, Miss Darcy. My little cousin is tired, and clearly it is time for his nap."

"They are beautiful children," Miss Darcy commented, looking over the railing.

"They are. Mr. Wickham, it was wonderful to meet you. Mrs. Younge, Miss Darcy, I hope you have a lovely day."

/

Miss Darcy's Rented House

Ramsgate

That Evening

The windows in the dining room had been opened by the servants, and now the sighing of the nearby ocean drifted in on the salt-tinted breeze, shifting the heavy curtains lazily. Silverware clinked on fine china, the scents of a splendid dinner spread across the snowy linen tablecloth entirely overpowering the more delicate sea-smell. Several candles had been lit and were perfectly adequate for the smaller room. The pale blue walls and white wainscoting further brightened the space, conveying a homelike cheerful feel for the handful of diners clustered around the table.

"It is amazing that Miss Bennet's aunt grew up in Lambton," Georgiana Darcy exclaimed and then took a sip of dinner wine.

"It is amazing, if it is true," Mrs. Younge said drily.

This provoked a look of confusion on the girl's face. "You think she was deceiving us?"

"Not necessarily, but we have no idea whether she is telling the truth. We know nothing about Miss Bennet, and sometimes people lie about their antecedents."

Georgiana looked dismayed, and George Wickham, after being certain that the girl was looking away from him, scowled ferociously at Mrs. Younge. The lady was obviously taken aback for a few seconds and then understanding dawned. She turned back to her charge, smiled and said, "Not that I think that Miss Bennet is deceptive, not in the least. She is obviously a lady and knew of both Pemberley and Lambton. Moreover, she seems a very pleasant young woman."

Wickham nodded in approval at these words and relaxed. Georgiana Darcy, only fifteen years of age, was na?ve and innocent and trusting of those she encountered, and Wickham, who was working hard to enchant the girl sufficiently to bring about an elopement, had no wish for Miss Darcy to even consider that some people might not be all that they claimed to be.

"I do love Ramsgate so much," Georgiana said, looking out the window, her eyes bright.

Wickham hastily swallowed his bite of potatoes and turned an ardent gaze on the heiress's face.

"I do as well," he said, and while the words were simple, he put such a gentle caress in his tone that the girl blushed adorably.

"I … I am glad, though I cannot imagine anyone who would not love the sea."

"The sea," Wickham said, and boldly put out a hand to touch Georgiana's bare one, "is lovely, but not nearly as lovely as you are."

Georgiana turned even pinker, and though her lips were stretched into a smile, she could not help but turn a questioning look on Mrs. Younge. Fortunately for Wickham, he and Dorothea Younge had been acquainted for five years, and she was as eager to obtain control over Georgiana's dowry as he was.

"Miss Darcy," Mrs. Younge said as she smiled approvingly, "perhaps after Mr. Wickham has enjoyed his wine in solitary splendor, you could play on the pianoforte for him?"

"I do hope you will, Miss Darcy," Wickham said softly. "I cannot think of anything that would delight me more."

"Oh, if you would like..."

"I would, and afterwards, perhaps we could play Fox and Geese, as we did so many years ago?"

"That would be marvelous!"

- Laraba