Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

June 1817, London

U pon their return from Devonshire, Darcy's intention was to stay in town only as long as necessary to catch up on his business affairs, then he would return to Pemberley alone. Georgiana and Fielding planned to stay in town for a few more weeks, to attend the wedding of his cousin. The couple used Darcy House for prolonged stays two or three times a year, but Darcy came to town only when he had to, even though his relatives assured him repeatedly that he was not and never had been a social pariah or the object of mockery.

Three years earlier, Lady Matlock had skilfully recast the debacle of his marriage as an affair in which he was the victim—a distinguished man trying to honour his deceased mother's wishes but then cruelly misused by his greedy aunt and deranged cousin. Their violent deaths had kicked up some dust, but it had quickly settled again once it became clear that the sources of the outrageous behaviour were no more. Lady Catherine had long had an unfavourable reputation; many among the ton were all too happy to believe ill of her. There was nary a whisper of incriminating letters or blackmail, nor of any disgrace to himself or his sister. Three years on, with Georgiana safely married to a landed gentleman who, though not of the ton , was fully accepted by the earl and countess, and the deaths of Lady Catherine and Anne, Darcy's reputation was completely in the clear. The difference was that he no longer had any interest in the first circles; rather, he had an aversion to them.

After a bath and a change of clothes, he walked to his study and removed a large mahogany box from the safe. Opening it, he lifted out tray after tray of opulent jewellery—brooches, rings, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, fobs, all pure gold or silver, studded with precious gems or pearls—until at last he found what he wanted. It was a long, finely wrought gold chain, devoid of any decoration.

Darcy sat in a chair by the window and took the lover's eye pendant out of his breast pocket. He held it up to the light streaming through the window, admiring again the artist's ability to capture the fire and sparkle of Elizabeth's eye on such a tiny piece of ivory. He traced the delicate winged eyebrow with the tip of his finger and marvelled at the thick, dark lashes, so fine and beautiful. He succumbed to impulse and kissed it, glad that no one could see him, then slid the pendant onto the chain. Undoing Talbot's excellent work on his cravat, he opened his shirt and set the chain over his head and around his neck. The pendant came to rest right over his heart. Now he would never lose it; indeed, he would never remove it. He returned the jewellery to the safe, rebuttoned his shirt and tied his cravat, and went to join his family in the blue parlour.

The tea had just been brought in when he entered the room. Georgiana and Fielding were already there, and the three tucked in to the variety of refreshments laid before them. "When is your cousin's wedding?" Darcy asked his brother.

"In nine days. Leonard arrived in town today. He has some business with the Admiralty. He will see to that as well as his part of the final wedding preparations."

"Where is he staying?" asked Georgiana.

"With Mrs Bothwell, an aunt on his father's side. She has a house in Hans Town. I expect we shall see him here as well, if you will extend an invitation, my dear."

So it was that the next afternoon, a pleasant-looking young naval officer was sitting in the blue parlour. Darcy reckoned he had five or six more days, perhaps a week, of attending to business in town before he could escape to Pemberley. He could afford the time to make a brief appearance.

The newly minted Captain Leonard bore a passing resemblance to Fielding, and he also had the family charm. He was animatedly describing his ship, the Melisande , as Darcy entered the room. Georgiana made the introductions. "The Melisande is your new command? It is a frigate, I understand?" Darcy asked.

"Yes, a fine third-rater. In fact, I served on her under the late Captain Bancroft. He was my mentor, and he set the high standard I shall hold myself to as I formally take command. He took a new, unfamiliar crew and moulded us into a unified force. We survived a long and eventful cruise to Singapore and back between 1813 and 1815, and every man respected and was loyal to him. Cyclones, pirates, a running skirmish with a rogue French privateer, you name it. We became a fighting force to take pride in under his command."

"You say the late Captain Bancroft. Did he die on the voyage?" Georgiana asked.

The young captain looked down at his hands, then raised his head, genuine sorrow writ on his face. "Technically, yes. We were in the final stretch of the voyage home, almost within sight of England. There was a sudden squall, and a bolt of lightning struck the main topgallant mast, splintering it. One of the larger splinters pierced him as it fell, and he was killed instantly. He never knew what hit him."

"And so close to home," murmured Georgiana.

"It was a terrible, useless tragedy. For a man who had survived so much over the course of his career, to be killed by random chance…" The captain shook his head. "He served under Nelson himself in the West Indies and the Mediterranean and went on to be decorated for bravery at the Nile, Copenhagen, and Trafalgar. His reputation was such that he received a posthumous promotion to Rear Admiral of the Blue. He and his wife were contemplating retirement to some land he owned near Bristol. She sailed with us, you know."

Darcy's interest was piqued. "She sailed with her husband? On a naval vessel? All the way to Singapore and back?"

Captain Leonard nodded. "An officer bringing his wife on a mission is not a common thing, but it is not unheard of. I would go so far as to say that Mrs Bancroft was integral to the success of our mission. She was her husband's partner and sometimes adviser. They trusted each other implicitly. She took the time to know every member of the crew, from myself down to the cabin boys. Treated them all with kindness and dignity while maintaining the distance her husband's rank required."

Darcy found himself enjoying the young officer so much that he stayed until the visit ended. As Captain Leonard took his leave, he invited both gentlemen to a gathering of his colleagues at the Barbary Inn, where a private dining room had been reserved for a late dinner that evening. "It is a fine old inn, and it is known for its excellent fare. Good food and any kind of libations you can imagine."

"Why, I would enjoy that immensely! What say you, Darcy?" said Fielding.

Darcy reflected. An evening out would not go amiss, so long as it was not spent in the ornate drawing rooms of the ton . "Yes, I believe I would enjoy that. Thank you, Captain Leonard."

Later that day, Darcy and Fielding took an unmarked carriage to the inn, an ancient but well-kept building with a brick and half-timbered exterior, located in a shabby part of the city. They were shown through the busy public rooms to a large, well-appointed dining room. Captain Leonard was already there, as were what looked like more than twenty other officers. With Leonard providing introductions all round, the gentlemen seated themselves randomly, as the inn's servants poured ale and wine and took orders. Leonard was correct; the victuals were plain English fare but delicious.

The stories began over dinner. Tales of the war with France and of naval actions in the North American war were matched with others from the Caribbean, of sailing round the Horn, of the endless Pacific and its verdant green islands. These men had not only seen sea battles and pirates, but cyclones and showers of falling stars, whales and enormous schools of dolphins, shoals of luminescent sea creatures, and such things as rogue waves taller than the tallest buildings.

Darcy tasted several exotic beverages and found he enjoyed many of them. He sipped a drink from Lebanon called arak and appreciated the new experience. "I wonder why I have never heard of this inn before," he said to himself.

"If you are not a Navy man, I am not surprised," said an older man next to him. "Ships' officers tend to keep this place to ourselves. Oh, Army fellows stumble on it occasionally, but it is near enough to the docks that Navy and Marine officers make up most of the patrons. The Barbary is well-appointed and well-run. We are safe from fashionable society here, yet it has not the rough-and-tumble aspect of the dockside taverns."

The old man held out his hand. "I am Admiral Langley, at your service, sir. Pray pardon my informality, but I do not believe we were introduced in all the flurry."

"Fitzwilliam Darcy," he said, taking the man's hand. The admiral had a surprisingly strong grip, but like many who had spent their lives on the sea, he likely looked older than his true age. His face was as tanned as old leather, and his hair was wiry and white. His eyes, however, were among the most piercing Darcy had ever seen. "How do you know Captain Leonard? Has he served under your command?"

"I have not had the honour of serving with him directly, but I know him through his former commanding officer, Captain Bancroft, late of the Melisande in the East Indies squadron. Bancroft served under Nelson and removed to my command after Trafalgar."

"Captain Leonard said that his death was a terrible loss."

"It was indeed, and not just to the Melisande but to the Navy. He should have been promoted to rear admiral earlier in his career, not after his death." The admiral sipped his drink, a dark Jamaican rum, and leant back in his chair. "He was quite a singular man. A gentleman to the bone. Very quiet, very reserved, very closed off. Few ever really knew him. He had a genuine humanity about him though. He was respected by his men, especially those of the lowest ranks. He never pretended to be their friend or any such nonsense, but they esteemed him because he treated them with dignity and respected their work and their importance to his ship. His crews were among the finest, like a well-oiled machine."

"And his wife travelled with him?"

"Aye, that she did, but only on his last voyage. He married later in life. I believe he was two-and-forty." The admiral chuckled. "We who had been acquainted with him for many years thought he was a confirmed bachelor. I could not have been more surprised when he reported for duty with a pretty young wife. A country girl, half his age, daughter of an insignificant squire buried deep in the shires somewhere. She had never even clapped eyes on the sea before, much less ever sailed. I do not mind telling you that I was worried he had made a mistake."

The admiral filled up his glass. His face was slightly flushed, and he seemed a little too talkative, but Darcy was not about to object, so fascinated was he by the story. "Now, mind you, I am not one of those officers who are against women on a ship. My Hannah has sailed with me for years, through good and bad and thick and thin. But it takes a rare breed of woman to endure the hardships and dangers on a naval vessel. It was a great relief to me when Hannah spent time with her and pronounced her fit for duty.

"She was a bright little thing. She found her sea legs quickly and worked hard to learn her place on board ship. She assisted the surgeon when needed and attended to the sick, as all officers' wives should. Somewhere along the way she had been educated more in the way of a boy than a girl, so she served as school master to the middies. Taught them Latin and Greek, history, and some mathematics, even some music. When she discovered that many of the crew could not read or write, she taught those who wished to learn."

Darcy raised his glass. "Rare indeed. How tragic that the captain died before they could make a home of their own."

A group of younger officers at the next table had turned in their chairs to listen.

"If I may share a story, sir, Mrs Bancroft sang for the whole crew sometimes." He nudged one of his companions. "Remember how she would sing Coast of High Barbary with young Fred playing the fiddle?"

"Aye, and how she sang to fearsome Old Jago when he was dying?" the second young officer turned to explain. "One of the seamen was called Jago. He was a huge old Cornishman, monstrously big, and a real ruffian. He'd been a smuggler and a pirate and Lord knows what else. He had many scars, and his face looked like he'd been fighting his whole life. All the middies were afraid of him, but he liked Captain Bancroft and his missus. He took a few bullets in the gut from the French ship, and he was dying—there was no saving him. He was in agony and very restless, so Mrs Bancroft sat with him and sang. She held his hand and sang some Cornish ballads and a lullaby she knew, and it calmed him right down. Old Jago relaxed and closed his eyes and smiled. She sang him right up to the pearly gates, sir. I have never seen the like."

"She is very kind," agreed the youngest at their table. To Darcy's eyes, this young man, though dressed in a sharp lieutenant's uniform, had not yet achieved his majority. His cheeks were still rounded, and there was little evidence of whiskers. "Always seeing to the welfare of the crew." He flushed red and hid his eyes behind one hand. "I accidentally called her ‘Mama' once."

The entire table erupted in raucous laughter, and his compatriots pounded him on the back.

The admiral opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Captain Leonard, who had come up behind Darcy. "I could not help but overhear you speak of Mrs Bancroft. I have news for you. My betrothed has received a letter from her. She will be attending the wedding!"

The company continued far into the night, with Darcy enjoying himself more than he had in months. Later, as he and Fielding rode home, he thought about women who would brave the hardships and dangers to be always with their husbands and wondered how on earth to go about finding one.

"My dear, what think you of planning a dinner party for my cousin Leonard and Miss Warner?" asked Fielding the next morning.

Georgiana looked up from her breakfast. "What a delightful idea!" She narrowed her eyes at him. "You seem to be enjoying the company of naval officers. Should I be worried that you plan to enlist?"

Her husband chuckled. "I like my creature comforts too much for that, never you fear." He leant forwards. "I wish you had seen your brother last night. I do not know whether I have ever seen him so pleased with his company, except among the Cronies of course. A comfortable dinner party might be just the thing for him as well, especially since he is for Derbyshire at the end of the week. No complicated French delicacies, no artful coquetry, no putting on airs. What do you think?"

Georgiana smiled. "I think it an excellent idea. If you would please ask your cousin about a date, I shall happily proceed."