Page 82

June, 1819

Miss Kitty Bennet stretched her arms and tilted her face to the sun. Her mother would no doubt fuss at her for allowing her skin to be tanned by the vibrant rays, but Mrs. Bennet was far away at Longbourn in Hertfordshire. Kitty was too ecstatic with the smell of the sea, the billowing of the sails, and the cries of the sea birds to be concerned about her complexion.

Refreshed, the gentlewoman squinted up at the great white sail soaring above her and turned back to her easel and paper. While the sea was quite calm today, the schooner Concord Moon was still rising and falling such that it was difficult to draw the proper lines. She waited a few more seconds and then, as the ship rose smoothly from its trough, rapidly added a few more lines to the page.

“That is wonderful,” a male voice commented beside her.

She turned and smiled up into the face of Viscount Hugh Hartington, heir to the Marquis of Salisbury, “Thank you. It is surprisingly challenging to draw on board a moving ship.”

“I do not find it surprising at all,” the man returned in a dry tone. “I find it surprising that anyone can do anything on board a ship.”

Miss Kitty Bennet rose to her feet and gazed with concern up into the young nobleman’s face, “Are you ill, Hugh?”

The viscount chuckled in some embarrassment, “I confess I am a little, though it is nothing like my last time on board when my face was quite green. I believe the seas are calmer today?”

She tilted her head impishly, “I heard Captain Swithin proclaim this one of the calmest days he had seen in his seafaring career.”

“I do believe I am not cut out for life at sea, Kitty,” the man responded ruefully. “The spirit is willing but the body is weak.”

“That is quite all right,” his fiancée assured him. “I am entirely willing to stay on England’s shores once we are married.”

“I hope that your sister and her scientific cohorts can make do without your artistic skills.”

“They will have to, will they not? But do not be concerned, Hugh; we have already found a male artist of skill who will be relocating to Pemberley soon. Speaking of my sister, do you know where she is?”

“Mr. Collins and Mr. and Mrs. Stanton are working at the back of the ship on the aft deck. They are hovering over some experimental apparatus for removing salt from sea water, I think. Does that sound correct?”

Kitty nodded thoughtfully, “Oh yes, Lydia mentioned that a few days ago. They are trying to find an efficient way to turn salt water into fresh water. They have already done substantial work on land, but wish to try the experiment on board an actual ship to analyze how the movement affects the apparatus.”

“How can they possibly change salt water to fresh?”

“Well, I do not understand it entirely, though Lydia tried to explain it,” his intended bride admitted. “If salt water is evaporated, the water goes into the air and the salt is left behind. If one can recapture and cool the water in the air, it is fresh. If salt water could be evaporated and the water regained, on a large scale I mean, then there would be more fresh water during ocean voyages. So I believe they are thinking about using the heat from sun or something like that? I do not know. I am merely the artist.”

“You know far more about such things than I do, Kitty,” the viscount replied, his eyes fixed on her exquisite countenance. “It is quite amazing.”

She laughed and blushed, “But you know far more about animal husbandry and crop rotation and the like, though I promise I intend to learn.”

“Kitty!” a feminine voice cried out,

The couple turned toward Lydia and Nathaniel Stanton, whose arms were heavy laden with peculiar objects.

“Mr. Collins is looking after the evaporation experiment,” Lydia explained. “Nathaniel and I will attempt to fly this small hot air balloon with an anemometer attached.”

“What is an anemom...,” Kitty began before halting in confusion.

“Anemometer,” Nathaniel Stanton continued. “It is an instrument for measuring wind speeds; we hope to analyze the wind speeds at different heights from the ship at sea.”

“Kitty, if we do manage to get the balloon aloft, can you draw a quick sketch, with a particular focus on the rough angle between the instrument and the balloon? It will help with the analysis.”

“Of course, dear sister!”

Viscount Hartington shook his head once the Stantons were out of earshot, “Your family is really quite extraordinary, Kitty.”

“I suppose every family is extraordinary in its own way.”

“No, most families are frightfully dull, at least compared to yours.”

“Well, much of that is due to Mr. Collins,” the lady replied with a fond glance toward the rear of the ship. “He is the one that introduced Lydia to scientific endeavors. He was also the catalyst for bringing Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth together and Lydia and her husband as well.”

“He is truly remarkable, Kitty. He does not look prepossessing in the least, but his intelligence boggles my mind.”

“Yes,” Kitty agreed, lifting a hand and shading her eyes so she could peer to the southeast.

“Do you know what time we will land in Calais?" her fiancé inquired.

“I believe the plan is to tack the ship to and fro for a few hours so that the scientific experiments can be carried out, and to land in France by early evening. I hope you can manage being on board that long?”

“I am feeling better by the minute,” the viscount returned stoutly. “Mr. Collins poured some of his chamomile tea into me shortly after we departed Dover, and it is helping my body’s rebellion against the movement of the sea.”

“I assume he added plenty of sugar spheres?” Kitty asked in a teasing tone.

“Actually, they were sugar cubes .”

The lady turned toward him excitedly, “Oh Hugh, you are truly accepted into the clan! Mr. Collins has been unwilling to share his sugar cubes with most people since they are still in a trial phase of manufacture.”

Hugh Hartington blinked, “Why would it matter? Surely sugar is sugar?”

“I advise you not to say such a thing within Mr. Collins’s hearing, my dear. For him, the proper form of sugar is nearly a sacred thing. Oh!”

Lord Hartington turned at his beloved’s exclamation and gazed up with wonder. The gaily striped blue and red balloon was hovering ten yards above the deck and Mr. Stanton was toiling away with ropes to keep it level as Lydia carefully adjusted the anemometer.

“It is beautiful, is it not?” Kitty inquired, turning back to the paper and beginning to sketch the apparatus.

“It is, and so are you.”

She shot a saucy glance at him, “My dear Hartington, are you saying I am as lovely as a balloon?”

“A thousand times lovelier.”

She colored again but turned her attention to paper and balloon; within a remarkably short amount of time she had rendered the balloon, the anemometer apparatus, and their relative positions.

“Will you find our time in Calais difficult at all?” she asked suddenly.

Hartington gazed down at her in bewilderment for a full ten seconds before he understood.

“No, not at all.”

“You are certain? I do not believe you have seen Miss Darcy since ...”

“Since she rejected my offer of marriage at Pemberley two Decembers ago? My dear Kitty, Miss Darcy was entirely correct that she and I were not well suited. I greatly honor her determination to forge a course which, while unconventional, is bringing her joy. I was initially shocked and disappointed, but I met you during that visit, after all, and quickly realized that God had a far more compatible woman for me.”

She turned toward him, her expression troubled, “I worry sometimes that your family and friends will find me disappointing, Hugh. I am only the fourth daughter of a simple country gentleman, and your father is a marquis.”

The young man’s usually pleasant features shifted into a scowl, “If anyone says that directly to me, I will throw them into the nearest body of water. Besides, from a purely practical standpoint, you are very well connected.”

“To the Darcys and the Matlocks.”

“Exactly. Not that it matters a whit to me. You are a treasure.”

And then they were silent, gazing at one another with the dewy eyed adoration of young love.

***

Mr. Darcy’s love for his wife was neither dewy eyed nor young, but it was deeper than that of the young couple but newly engaged. He lay quietly on the large bed, one arm wrapped around his precious wife. Elizabeth had given birth to their third child, a boy named Samuel, seven months previously, and while the infant was relatively placid, Elizabeth was still up some nights for feedings. Darcy had observed his wife’s fatigue and insisted that they lie down in bed after the midday meal, though Elizabeth claimed she did not need additional rest.

But now she was nestled close to him, and he could feel her body relaxing.

“What time will the Concord Moon dock?” she asked drowsily.

“I am certain they will land before the sun sets, but no doubt Mr. Collins wishes for as many hours as possible to sail about doing his latest obscure experiments.”

She laughed at this and turned over to face him, lifting a loving hand to caress his face, “You are right, my love. I only hope that Captain Swithin does not give into Mr. Collins’s pleas for just a few more minutes of sailing such that they need to make a night landing.”

“Captain Swithin successfully managed George Wickham for years before retiring from the navy and commanding the Concord Moon . He is, according to my cousin Richard, a resolute man.”

“Well, we will see them soon enough, then,” she returned, her lids drifting closed. “Please do wake me if they arrive earlier than expected.”

“I will,” he promised, and watched her lovely face, still slightly plump from her recent pregnancy, as she relaxed. A few minutes later, his wife was asleep, her breathing slow and even.

Darcy waited a few more minutes before rolling cautiously off the bed, whereupon he donned his coat and put on his shoes before slipping out of the bedroom. He made his way into the nursery at the end of the room where his children were, miraculously enough, all napping. It was an adorable and domestic scene with the two older children curled up on their beds and the baby in his bassinet. A nursemaid looked up as he entered the room but neither spoke for fear that it would wake one of the children; Darcy knew that Rosemary and William were capable of fractious tantrums if woken too early from naps, and the baby would expect to be fed when he awoke. Elizabeth needed more rest.

He retreated cautiously and made his way down the front staircase to the main level of the house where his sister Georgiana and her new husband, Emil Laurent, were living. The Darcy family had crossed the Channel three weeks previously for a seaside holiday which had also served the purpose of allowing the Darcys to spend more time with the man who had won Georgiana’s heart.

The house was well built and of reasonable size, though a mere shrimp compared to the grandeur of Pemberley. Darcy found it all very refreshing; there were no tenant quarrels to mediate, no friends needing estate advice, no whirlwind of social engagements which exhausted him body and soul.

The sound of music drew him to the rear of the house. He entered the music room quietly and gazed upon the charming picture of Georgiana and Emil, seated side by side on the pianoforte, playing a complex musical piece together. Husband and wife were focused intensely at the music score on the rack, their hands moving with elegance and grace.

Darcy took this peaceful moment to consider his new brother by marriage. Emil Laurent, an only child, had been born into a family of French nobility and was carried to safety in London as a young child by his mother. His father, regrettably enough, had lingered too long in Paris and perished at the guillotine during the Terror.

The Baroness Fleury settled in London with a distant cousin from her mother’s side and proceeded to bring up her only child with courage and diligence. Emil showed a precocious talent for music at an early age and his mother, also a gifted musician, taught him for many years until his abilities outstripped her own. At the age of twenty, Emil became a music master to support his mother when the Baroness’s health worsened. He had assisted her through her last illness which had led to her death only three years ago.

Georgiana met Emil Laurent in London while visiting a friend who was Laurent’s student; the French émigré and the English gentlewoman were quickly drawn together by their shared passion for music. At his sister’s request, Darcy invited the Frenchman to Pemberley to oversee a courtship, and within four months, the couple was married in the chapel at Pemberley.

There had been a number of dissenting voices within the Matlock and Darcy clans; Laurent, while well born, was but a poor foreigner. He had neither an estate nor the means to support Georgiana in the style to which she was accustomed. The Earl of Matlock and his lady were disapproving and Lady Catherine de Bourgh, confined to a small Darcy estate in Scotland, sent a long and impassioned letter to her nephew by express, which forced Darcy to pay a great deal of money for a message he did not wish to read.

Darcy could not regret his approval of the marriage. Georgiana’s passion was music, and none of the young gentlemen and nobles who had sought to win her hand could match her fervor. Emil Laurent was her perfect match, not just because of his musical abilities, but because he was kind, gentle, hardworking and diligent.

Georgiana suddenly stopped playing and turned to her new husband as she pointed at the score on the rack, “This particular chord needs to be changed, Emil,”

“I thought it sounded lovely,” the man insisted, frowning down at the musical score.

“No, Emil, it is not right; either I must add a third or fifth. Hear, listen.”

She proceeded to play for a few seconds, paused, and played again. To Darcy’s untutored ears, the stanzas sounded identical, but his new brother’s face lightened up, “Oh yes, Georgiana, I do see! Both are an improvement though I think perhaps ...”

“This,” Georgiana declared, playing again.

“Yes, you are right.”

The woman lifted an imperious eyebrow, “Of course I am right, dearest.”

“Of course you are,” the man returned, his voice suddenly husky.

The two gazed into one another’s faces and leaned forward to share an impassioned kiss, which broke off when Georgiana’s eyes caught sight of her brother.

“Oh!” she cried out, leaping to her feet and blushing furiously.

Emil Laurent was also slightly red, but he laughed at the sight of Darcy.

“You should not creep up on us,” Georgiana scolded, hurrying forward to embrace her brother.

“You did leave the door open,” Darcy replied in amusement, “but I do apologize for ... disturbing you.”

This provoked an even more fiery blush from his sister, and she sought to turn the subject, “Is Elizabeth asleep?”

“And the children as well! It is something of a miracle.”

“I think we exhausted Rosemary and William this morning when we walked through the vast halls of Eglise de Notre Dame,” Georgiana commented fondly, retreating to her beloved husband’s side. “Even I am somewhat weary, and I have far longer legs.”

“That is no doubt the reason. I am most grateful.”

“I am the grateful one,” Emil suddenly announced, his face solemn. “After so many years alone, I am part of a wonderful family.

“And we are very glad to have you,” Darcy returned sincerely.