Page 23 of Lizzie’s Spirit

Some three days before they were due to sail from the Cape, Mr. Bent announced he wished to travel with Colonel Macquarie on the final leg of their journey to Sydney.

He stated he had neglected his duty; he was to advise the colonel, once commissioned as governor, on how British law should be applied in the colony and, in particular, how to apply the law to those soldiers and settlers who sided with the rebels.

Since the governor’s party was now increased by the addition of Captain Antill, Macquarie’s aide-de-camp, a rearrangement of the berths was necessary.

The solution to this dilemma both astonished and vexed Elizabeth, but she had, of course, not been consulted as to the new arrangements.

Mr. and Mrs. Bent were to transfer to the Dromedary , taking with them the maid, Hannah, and such other servants as they required.

Mr. Darcy, Colonel O’Donnell, and his secretary, Ensign Huey, were to travel on the Hindostan .

And the children? Since leaving England, they had been almost exclusively in the company of Elizabeth, and from Rio, they had scarcely seen their parents due to the latter being indisposed for the greater part of the journey.

So, they would remain on the Hindostan with Elizabeth as their nurse and carer.

Henry and Beth had become accustomed to amusement with little William, Captain Pasco’s son, and Henry was adamant he wished to remain with his playmate of some five months’ duration; naturally, Beth would stay with her brother.

That parents could countenance separation from their small children for two months—the time allowed for the forthcoming journey—was viewed by Elizabeth with bewilderment.

She knew Mr. Bent doted on Henry and assumed Mrs. Bent would be equally partial to Beth.

She supposed her custody of the children was a compliment of sorts to herself, that they trusted her with their most precious possessions, though she could not condone such abandonment of the children.

They were now hers alone to cherish, love, and succour on the Hindostan whilst their parents were off on the Dromedary .

“Sir, I seek your indulgence, if I may.”

“Certainly, Miss Bennet. We’re not underway till the morn, so I am almost at my leisure.”

“Mrs. Bent has seen fit to take Hannah with her to the Dromedary ; thus, the two small children, Henry and Beth, are in my sole care. Would it be possible and appropriate for me to choose a maid to assist me from among the soldiers’ wives?

I know many who are very trustworthy. The person would sleep in my cabin, as did Hannah, and be available to care for the children and your William, if required, when I’m occupied elsewhere. ”

The captain knew Miss Bennet intended to take up her care of the enceinte wives and those other unfortunates who required her ministry. “Do you have anyone in mind, Miss Bennet? I will need to approve their moving to the quarterdeck cabin.”

“Indeed, sir. I would take Harshita. She has a small infant in her care, he having been born shortly before our arrival at Madeira, but he is a quiet infant who would not disturb the other passengers. I trust her implicitly; she has been under my protection since the birth and will carry out her duties with care and good humour.”

Captain Pasco considered the request. Harshita, the wife of Sgt.

Monogan, was Indian, but she had gained respect from the other regimental wives following the birth of her child and her association with Miss Bennet.

He would consult his wife, and if she had no objections, then he would approve of it.

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From: Hindostan, Indian Ocean

Dearest Sister, Mary—

I hope you received the letters I wrote to you and Mama. We’re now ten days out from the Cape; it’s almost five months to the day since we departed England. You must tell me if Charlotte did marry Mr. C and is now mistress of Longbourn—poor Mama, having to go lower to her!

I attended my first ball! Which would have been a grand affair had I not been importuned.

No! Not like that—some Dutch boy spiked my drink with strong liquor that smelled of juniper.

I, in my naivety, thought it only a flavoured cordial and was becoming quite boozy, though I didn’t realise it, only ever having before drunk small quantities of watered wine, which is not so strong in spirits.

And who came to my rescue!? None other than Mr. Darcy, yes!

He who was at the court in St. Albans and put us into the dower house.

Though I cannot blame him for that—he did manage to secure us an income and showed that all of the fittings and furniture were ours.

I do believe he’s an honest and upright man; his major fault is his being overly reserved in his manner, though being very handsome, I can forgive him that!

Mr. Darcy put me into the care of Mevrouw Brand, in whose house I’m staying; she kindly took me back to her home, gave me coffee to clear my head, and put me to bed.

‘Twas like I was a small child again, being fussed over by dear Mama—oh, how I miss my family!

I heard later that Mr. Darcy had the boy who importuned me placed in the stocks, which greatly angered his father, a powerful farmer (known by the Dutch word, ‘Boer’); but the governor, Earl Caledon, approved, so all is well.

I have an epiphany—we gentlewomen are brought up too refined, too cloistered in our grand houses wearing fine clothes but with no exposure to the real world of rakes, fraudsters, gamblers, and their ilk, for which we’re totally unprepared.

So, I’ll ask Mama to expose you and the girls, and perhaps Jane also, as she’s prone to forgive bad behaviour without being aware of its intended incivility—I have never heard her speak ill of a human being in my life.

So, we’ll start with liquor and other hard drinks, these being gin, whisky, jenever, and vodka, which are the strongest; fortified wines such as port, Madeira, and sherry, which are strong but not so as the liquors; wine, brown ale, porter, stout, and cider, which are lesser in spirits; and small beer and table wine.

Ask Mama or Uncle Gardiner to obtain a small sample of each of these.

Then take a sip so you know their odour and the taste upon your tongue; thus, if some sly person slips such into your lemonade (as happened to me!), you’ll be aware of the disguise, and quietly dispose of the drink.

Then excuse yourself from their presence. There! Is it not a brilliant plan?

The company on the Hindostan is much changed since the voyage from Portsmouth to the Cape.

Then, I dined with Captain Pasco and his wife Mrs. Rebecca Pasco and Mr. Ellis Bent and his wife, Mrs. Eliza Bent.

The Pascos led with lively conversation, particularly that of Mrs. Pasco, who has been travelling with her husband since ‘05, when they married. But the Bents have left to be on the Dromedary; our table now consists of the Pascos, as before, but also Colonel O’Connell, who is to be lieutenant governor of New South Wales; Mr. Darcy, the deputy judge-advocate; and Ensign Huey, who is Col. O’Connell’s secretary.

Col. O’Connell is an older man, close in age to dear Papa; Ensign Huey seems quite young, though he’s well-read and joins our conversation quite readily.

The colonel also enters into conversation with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man and talks very pleasantly.

Mr. Darcy is mostly quiet, but that is his natural reserve, for when he wishes to exercise it, his voice is quite commanding.

Mary, I do not comprehend men! Is it so difficult for Mrs. Pasco and me to be the only women at dinner without three men—for I do not include Captain Pasco—engaging in the most bizarre behaviour?

One will offer me a cut from the side of beef, and immediately another will proffer a selection of vegetables (for we’re well supplied with fresh food, having just left port) or another some spiced ragout.

Do they not realise I’m very well capable of getting my own?

And as for dessert, my plate would be piled high with an impressive mound of tarts, jellies, puddings, etc.

, were I not to decline. Indeed, I was forced to forgo apple pie—which is my favourite—because one of the gentlemen would immediately get me baked custard (which I loathe), cheesecake, or a portion of heavy pound cake, which seems to be the cook’s favourite, but not mine!

Can you explain their behaviour? Mrs. Pasco just rolls her eyes, though I sometimes notice a small smile upon her lips; Capt.

Pasco seems oblivious to the games being played at his table.

Once the children are asleep, I often take my guitar to the cuddy where we spend the evenings.

Usually, I select my own pieces, but ofttimes they request Irish or English airs.

Mr. Darcy has a fine baritone voice, which he seldom uses, though he did sing a Bach cantata with me: ‘Komm, mein Jesu, und erquicke’.

But the other gentlemen have (I shall be polite) ordinary voices and find it hard to maintain the tune, though frequently they will stand up and sing with me—I would rather they did not.

Here I am complaining about my company, when you, Mama, Kitty, and Lydia are forced to live in the dower house.

Has Jane returned yet? If she has, I do so hope Mr. C cannot lay a claim against her.

Oh, I must finish my missive! A midshipman has come to say a packet boat has signalled: Captain Pasco will send a parcel of letters aboard to forward to England.

Please forgive me for not being there for your fifteenth birthday. Sweet Mary, you are now so grown up; I miss you dreadfully. I enclose many kisses with this letter. They will be free to seek your soft cheek when the seal breaks.

Your tearful sister, and ofttimes lonely—Elizabeth.

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