Page 22 of Lizzie’s Spirit

“I suspect,” replied Elizabeth, laughing with the man, “a handsome profit was made on the trade.”

“Oh! Certainly!” he beamed, his eyes crinkling with good humour. “Shall I take your old boots? They are only fit for the rag bin.”

Elizabeth completed the transaction, also purchasing a pair of sturdy, leather ankle shoes.

Her indoor slippers, suitable for living in a manor house, would not be good enough for use in the settlement at Sydney, whose roads were likely ill-made and houses fitted with flagstones or rough timber floors.

Leaving the shop, she made her way to the parade ground, which Captain Antill had remarked upon as one of the finest in the world.

It stood beneath the Castle, a pentagonal bastion fort built some one hundred and thirty years prior by the Dutch East India Company.

At its southern wall stood a stone jetty extending into Table Bay.

This she trod, breathing in the cool, salty air coming off the sea.

In the bay, she could see some four naval vessels and counted six merchants lying at anchor.

“Do you wish to see the Hindostan , Miss Bennet?” A deep, resonant voice startled her, and a Galilean brass telescope was placed in her hands. She turned: “Mr. Darcy! How good to meet you. Yes! I was trying to ascertain which of those ships were the Hindostan and the Dromedary. ”

“If you look to the masthead, you can see Admiral Bertie’s blue flag on the Charwell .

” Darcy assisted Elizabeth, his left arm holding the telescope so she could adjust the focus.

He stood close to her side; she shivered, even though the day was warm, being just before midday; the air held a hint of sandalwood and amber.

Once the telescope was focused—a procedure she understood, having used her father’s celestial Newtonian at Longbourn—she could see the blue pennant atop a small sloop-of-war of 16 guns.

What was he thinking? Darcy stepped away to give Miss Bennet some space.

It seemed so natural to hold the telescope for her.

He had done the same for his sister, Georgiana, and the same for his cousin Felicity, but she was young, just sixteen, a girl he had known since she was a baby.

But Miss Bennet was neither a close relative nor a child; she was a young woman out in society: tall, only a hand or so less than himself, but pretty, lively, and elegant.

Perhaps, because of the long journey, with the only female company on board being Mrs. Macquarie—tolerable, adequate conversation, married…

ah, he understood: his attraction to Miss Bennet was merely that of one starved for like-minded, more youthful company.

Miss Bennet had no expectations: she was fleeing marriage—albeit a poor one to that buffoon Collins—but, nevertheless, he was safe; a second son, few prospects—she would not involve herself, or endeavour to involve him, in an affection that the want of fortune on either side would make so very imprudent.

She sighted the ships and then returned the telescope to Mr. Darcy. “What brings you to the dock, sir?”

“My boots were also in need of repair. I visited the shop of Meneer Joubert, who mentioned he had a customer dressed in the English style but speaking perfect Afrikaans, albeit with a slight Flemish accent. He said she was very beautiful, uncommonly charming, elegant, and witty; she wished to see the parade ground, the castle and thence view Table Bay.”

Elizabeth blushed—and then chuckled. What a strange man!

He’s so reserved in his manner, but with such a droll sense of humour, like dear Papa.

Elizabeth knew she was no beauty; in the mirror she saw more than one failure of symmetry in her figure.

As for charming? She rolled her eyes; her manners were not those of the fashionable world.

How can one be elegant sliding down a mountain with her skirts around her knees?

And her wit was too often impetuous; too often she would fall into the fallacy of ridiculing what is wise and good, rather than merely folly and nonsense, only later to regret her diversion.

She was determined to laugh with him. “And, sir, did you follow her in the hope of meeting some Dutch beauty—and found me instead?” Oh dear, her response could be misinterpreted—she had not meant to be so forward: her wit had run away with her mouth.

She blushed again and looked away from the gentleman.

“My apologies, sir, that was unbecoming of me.”

“Not at all, ma'am—not at all.” He lent her his arm, upon which she placed her gloved hand, and they turned back to the shore.

They made their way along the shorefront and past the Rogge Bay Battery, but were obliged to turn back towards the town when her guide refused to proceed past the warehouses that abutted the stone landing.

She explained to Mr. Darcy the Khoikhoi footman insisted the alleys and streets beyond the Battery were not safe for gentlefolk such as they.

At this point, as they crossed the entrance to Riebeek Street, they saw a harried man exit the street, shuffling forward and often glancing back over his shoulder.

“Ladr?es! Oh, que tolo eu sou— Thieves! Oh, what a fool I am! ”

Elizabeth stepped towards him and answered, in Portuguese, as he had spoken: “Senhor, can we assist? You appear most distressed.” The man, whom she now recognised was dressed as a Jew, turned abruptly to stare at her and Mr. Darcy.

“Jeová seja louvado— Jehovah be praised ! Ma'am, there are thieves in the alleyway; they accosted me in my shop, and I was forced to flee.”

Just as the man reached them, several men dressed in slops and blue jackets, identifying them as seamen, spilled into the square.

One, who wore breeches and may have been an officer or warrant, swaggered up to the group, looking towards Darcy.

“Oi, we’ve no trouble with you toffs! Leave the Jew, take the woman an’ the blackie”—he spat on the ground—“and we’ll be about our business. ”

Suddenly, a shrill whistle pierced the air. They all started and turned to stare at Elizabeth, who, with two fingers in her mouth, whistled loudly twice again. She blushed, the third time since meeting Mr. Darcy. “To call the cows to the dairy, sir, I learned the trick of it at a very young age.”

They heard a commotion behind them, and a half-dozen soldiers exited from the battery. They ran across the flagstones towards the two parties, who were belligerently confronting each other.

“Mr. Darcy—judge-advocate! Corporal, take these men into custody, now!”

The sailors began to protest, and their leader shouted angrily at Darcy—“Oi, we’re King’s navy. You can’t take us here ashore.”

Elizabeth had seen that smile before, in the court at St. Albans—the smile of a cat which had caught a mouse under its claw.

“You are correct. I’m sure Lord Caledon would not want this affair brought before a civilian tribunal.

Fortunately, my commission is also military.

Corporal, take them away to the Castle; inform the Watch that they are arrested by my order.

” After seeing the sailors led away under the enthusiastic eyes of their guard, Darcy turned back to the Jew: “To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

The man looked towards Miss Bennet. “Pardon me, ma’am,” he said in Portuguese, “my English is very poor. Can you assist me?”

After a long conversation, with which Darcy was growing impatient, Elizabeth was able to explain to him the circumstances that led to the Jew’s fleeing the would-be thieves.

His name was Senhor Nunes, a Sephardic Jew who traded in diamonds sourced from India and Brazil.

They were mostly rough diamonds, which he sorted as to whether they would be shipped to London or to Amsterdam for cutting and cleaving, though some Brazilian stones went to India.

That morning, being Saturday, Shabbat, he had sent his African guard away to visit with family, as he intended no business that day, but a late request from an officer due to sail on the evening tide had lured him to his shop in the Waterkant.

Much to his regret, the request was a ruse to have him alone.

The iron bars on the shop front prevented the thieves from forcing entry, which they attempted with crowbars and iron hammers.

To escape, he slipped out the back door.

But he was seen in the street, and the seamen gave chase, perhaps intending to force him back to his shop.

He accompanied Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth to the watch-house, where his deposition was taken.

Elizabeth was intrigued by his language, which had many words she did not recognise.

Senhor Nunes explained his family was descended from the Portuguese-Jewish diaspora from the 16th century.

There were influences from Spanish but primarily from Hebrew, a language of which Elizabeth knew little.

Once at the watch-house, Elizabeth decided to return to the house of Meneer Brand.

“You have a lovely wife, Mr. Darcy,” Senhor Nunes said after Miss Bennet had wished him well and departed with the Khoikhoi guide.

Darcy decided not to disabuse him of his mistake—perhaps his walking with Miss Bennet, her hand on his arm, had been misinterpreted.

Though they strolled together, they were accompanied by a servant.

He would not tarnish the reputation of the lady by acknowledging they were unmarried and would therefore likely become the focus of gossip—particularly after his defence of her at the ball.

Again, honesty would be by no means the best policy.