Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

O n the day that Darcy would have embarked on his solitary journey north to Pemberley, he instead had found himself calling on Elizabeth and was now in the carriage with Georgiana and Fielding on their way to an appointment with an architect. He was barely attending to the conversation, his mind replaying his call on Elizabeth and her aunt. She had asked him if he had found his partner in life, not knowing that he had been imagining her in that office for several years. And to find that he had something in common with her beloved aunt! Surely that boded well for his relationship with her family. Realising how little he was contributing to the conversation, he tore his thoughts away from his morning call and attended to the topic at hand.

The Devonshire property included a medieval cottage well on its way to becoming an unliveable shell, but Fielding had taken the notion to see whether it could be saved. He had heard high praise of a man who was not only a talented architect but a historic preservationist. Buoyed by his visit to Elizabeth, Darcy was of a mood to indulge his own curiosity. Some hidden features of the old chapel at Pemberley had recently come to light after some repairs were begun. Some long-dead Darcy had hidden richly coloured paintings, a baptismal font, and an extravagantly carved rood screen behind a brick wall during the early years of the Reformation. He himself would enjoy consulting an architectural preservationist.

"I feel we are fortunate to have been granted a meeting with Sir Alexander. Apparently, Lady Hicks has been trying to entice him to design a manor house for her and Sir Wilbur. She has been put off more than once," said Georgiana.

Darcy nodded. "Bingley wrote quite an entertaining account of it in a letter several months ago. It seems she is recreating Pemberley, only with more embellishment. It has become an obsession with her. Sir Alexander has turned her down several times. He wrote that he is committed to other projects for the foreseeable future, and he even suggested other architects, but his services are quite in vogue now, and she will not take no for an answer."

Fielding shook his head. "So Lady Hicks expects him to design her own version of Pemberley as an opulent palace."

Georgiana gave a wry smile. "That would indeed be just like her. Whatever it is she wants, I do not understand why she cannot get an appointment. She and Sir Wilbur can afford anything she can dream up. She will not be happy if she finds out that we just sent him a note requesting an appointment and received one almost immediately."

"Perhaps Sir Alexander does not choose his commissions merely for money. He did donate his time on the plans for the restoration of an ancient Saxon church in Gloucestershire and has done other pro bono work."

The carriage took them to the outskirts of the city, and they soon pulled up in front of a spacious and well-preserved early Georgian house with a large garden and beautifully laid out small park. Within minutes, a groom appeared and showed the coachman to the stables while the butler conducted them to Sir Alexander's showroom on the first floor.

Shown through wide double doors, they entered a large, high-ceilinged room that was recognisable as a former ballroom. It was populated with large tables covered with architectural plans, and pedestals displaying intricate models of spiral staircases, arches, and buttresses. Bookcases and architectural drawings covered the walls. Several drafting tables in a smaller room just off the larger space were occupied by young draftsmen hard at work.

"Mr and Mrs Fielding and Mr Darcy, sir," intoned the butler, who then bowed and left the room.

A lanky, sandy-haired man rose from behind a desk and walked towards them. He bowed and smiled at the trio, his eyes moving from face to face. "Good afternoon. I am Alexander Magnussen. I welcome you to my workshop."

Fielding made further introductions, and Sir Alexander gestured them to a corner of the room near a tiled hearth, where sofas and armchairs were placed around a low table. Georgiana had used her drawing expertise to make several sketches of the cottage from different angles. As his brother-in-law described the property, Darcy let his eyes move about the room. It was a fascinating place, and he hoped to have a chance to look more closely at some of the beautiful and detailed models and drawings. A workshop, Sir Alexander had called it, not a salon. He had also not used his title. Although by all accounts a tradesman in demand by fashionable society, it appeared he was not affected by his title. Was he perhaps also a gentleman?

Sir Alexander continued to speak to the Fieldings, making notes and small diagrams on a sketch-pad as he perused the drawings and listened to them describe the cottage and its setting. All four of them were absorbed by the discussion until Sir Alexander rose and excused himself briefly to order refreshments.

Upon his return, he took his seat and announced, "My wife will bring our tea shortly. Mr Darcy, she claims a prior acquaintance with you, though she says it was long ago."

He and the Fieldings picked up their conversation where they had left off while Darcy wondered who Lady Magnussen could be. A short time later, at the sound of the door opening behind them, the architect raised his head. His face instantly lit up with a smile. "Ah, here she is now."

Darcy turned to look and immediately understood why Lady Caroline Hicks would never, ever have a Magnussen-designed home.

Elizabeth was escorted to Captain Leonard's wedding by Admiral and Hannah Langley. The service was to be held at a small parish church in Kensington. Officers and mates attended the ceremony and the meal afterwards, though Captain Leonard had devised a way to celebrate with his entire crew, right down to the lowliest cabin boy. He would host a feast at a waterfront tavern frequented by sailors later in the week.

Naval shipmates were not sticklers for orders of precedence or odd numbers at table, so Elizabeth enjoyed her meal with her friends: the Langleys, the Dunbars, and now the Fieldings. How surprised she had been to enjoy Mr Darcy's visit so much. It would be nice to become better acquainted with his sister. Mrs Fielding asked the ladies many questions about their lives at sea, fascinated yet also obviously shocked at the privations they had endured.

"Will you be attending the celebration at the Swan, Lizzy?" Hannah asked.

"I shall." Elizabeth nodded. "An opportunity to see my shipmates cannot be missed."

"Where is the Swan?" asked Mrs Fielding.

"It is near the Wapping dock stairs, by the river," said Elizabeth, concealing her smile at her new friend's shocked expression.

"Is that not dangerous for a lady?" she cried, her hands fluttering to her chest.

Elizabeth laughed. "It is not the Pulteney, but I shall be perfectly safe. I shall be escorted by Captain and Mrs Leonard and other officers. I also believe I can count on the entire crew of the Melisande to defend me should I need it." She took a sip of her tea. "I believe you recently met my eldest sister, Lady Magnussen," she said, steering the conversation away from dockside taverns, which so clearly horrified Mrs Fielding.

"We did have that pleasure just two days ago," said Mr Fielding. "Your brother Sir Alexander is a skilled architect, but he quite boldly stated that he would not have achieved such success without his wife's intelligence and support."

Elizabeth smiled. "Jane has always been quiet, and when we were younger was quite reticent. She was often underestimated because of it. Sir Alexander has always valued her sensible counsel, treating her as an equal partner. As a result, she has bloomed. One could never say she is loquacious, but she has learnt not to hide her light under a bushel."

"My brother says you own a house near the sea?" asked Mrs Fielding.

"I do. In Somersetshire, south of Bristol. My late husband purchased some land to settle on after retirement, and before we sailed for Singapore, we commissioned Sir Alexander to design and build a home on it. It was almost completed when I returned to England. It is not a large house as it was only built for two. I feel very much at home there."

"How are Agueda and Youssef?" asked Hannah.

"They are well." Elizabeth explained to Mr and Mrs Fielding, "Agueda sailed with her husband Youssef, who was the quartermaster's mate on the Melisande . He was grievously wounded in battle, and at the conclusion of our voyage, I brought them into service for me at Windward House."

It was time, she felt, to direct the conversation away from herself.

"You must tell me more about your house in Devonshire."

Mr Fielding was only too happy to oblige with the story of how he inherited the land not knowing there was a house and outbuildings on it, while his wife enjoyed imagining a cosy little home overlooking the sea.

"She is going where?" Darcy asked, his morning cup of coffee suspended halfway between his lips and the table.

"To a tavern by the docks!" cried Georgiana. "Mrs Bancroft is not at all concerned, but it does not seem a place for a lady to me."

Fielding took his wife's hand. "She did say she would be escorted by the ship's officers, not to mention that the entire crew will be in attendance. Mrs Leonard will be there as well. I see no cause for alarm, my dear."

Darcy finished his breakfast and made his way to his study, frowning. He told himself that Elizabeth would be well protected, that as the wife of a naval officer, she might already be familiar with the area. She would be surrounded by loyal men who knew how to fight. She would be safe.

But it bothered him, just the same.

He could not focus on his work. He found himself staring out of the window, halfway through writing a letter or reading a contract. He could not settle. Extra protection for Elizabeth would not go amiss, he told himself. He rose from his desk and went in search of his valet.

Talbot's countenance remained impassive, though his eyebrows inched ever so slightly higher and higher. "Very good, sir. I shall do my best." Bowing, he left his master and set about his mission.

Three days later, Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley, descendant of multiple noble lines, grandson and nephew of an earl, sipped a tankard of ale at The Swan, sporting an ill-fitting outfit of rough, none-too-clean clothing and a day's stubble. His valet had come through, as he always did, with the proper accoutrements required.

Darcy did not know how or where Talbot had found the clothing he needed; he did not want to know, but they suited both the neighbourhood and the tavern's patrons. He had added a few details: a knife in his boot, a pistol tucked in an inner pocket, and a set of brass knuckles in an outer pocket.

Although the tavern was an aged and dilapidated building, he could see that there had been recent attempts to scrub it down and spruce it up.

He arrived before Elizabeth, though the servants at The Swan had already set up extra tables in a large space just off the public rooms. Men were arriving, singly and in small groups; by their dress, they were clearly seamen and obviously in their very best, some complaining loudly about having to wear shoes. Darcy was seated in the farthest corner, partially concealed by a post. He pulled his wide-brimmed hat a little lower over his eyes and settled in to watch.

A crowd had already gathered when the officers arrived, escorting Elizabeth and the newly minted Mrs Leonard. A cheer erupted, and within minutes a toast was drunk to the couple. Captain Leonard made a speech. Servants swarmed from the kitchens hoisting large trays laden with food and drink.

He observed the group for over an hour. Such a motley collection of men he had never seen before. Elizabeth took Mrs Leonard's arm and walked her slowly through the men, introducing them one at a time, pausing so the new captain's wife could exchange a few words with each. The respect the men had for her was readily apparent. When she finally settled in a chair, she was immediately surrounded by seamen and boys who wanted to speak to her individually.

Elizabeth was smiling and laughing, yet there was a quality he had never seen in her before. It was that of authority. A quiet confidence unlike the impudent self-assurance he remembered from his stay at Netherfield so long ago. Unlike the distant, arrogant authority he had been raised to display, she had a natural, easy authority with kindness and respect, a common touch.

What an excellent mistress of Pemberley she would be! How his servants and tenants would respect and admire her! He let his mind wander, imagining them together at Pemberley, as partners and lovers.

As the victuals were consumed, a voice called for a song, and one of the men grinningly produced a fiddle. Young Fred, I presume. Elizabeth laughed again and agreed. "What will it be, gentlemen?" she asked, and a chorus of shouted song titles was returned. She was hoisted up to stand on a chair, and after exchanging a glance with Fred, Elizabeth began to sing. Unfortunately her crew sang with her, making it hard for him to pick out her voice.

Darcy relaxed into his chair and sipped his ale, enjoying the music and trying to hide his smile as Elizabeth and Fred moved easily from one song to another. His presence at The Swan was obviously unnecessary, but he was glad he had come to get a glimpse of Elizabeth's life at sea.

Gradually, he sensed a presence behind him, heard a man muttering and restlessly moving about. He could not quite make out what he was saying; it was so low, but the malevolent anger in the voice was obvious. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as some of the vulgar monologue became clear.

"…cherry that's never been plucked … old fool … take what is mine…"

He heard heavy footsteps moving away and turned to glare at the vulgar miscreant, but all he saw was the retreating back of a grey-haired man in a brown coat. He was shaken enough that he stayed until the singing was over, goodbyes were made, and he could witness Captain Leonard escort his wife and Elizabeth to a waiting carriage.