Page 28 of Lizzie’s Spirit

Darcy recognised the sudden elevation of his status in the colony—he would be sought out because it appeared he had a close ear to the inner circles of government.

This would not endear him to Ellis Bent, for even now Darcy was taking on more of the judge-advocate’s work as Bent, through his recurring pleurisy and arthritis, was increasingly disabled.

Furthermore, the fees that Bent would have earned from providing legal advice to the colonists increasingly went to Darcy.

“I write regularly to my father,” continued Darcy—he would press his advantage. “If there are concerns I can address outside of my position as deputy judge-advocate, I’ll write to him of them.”

“Thank you, sir. I believe I speak for all here: we appreciate your generous offer.

Moreover, would it be possible to obtain an introduction to your esteemed father, Mr. Darcy, for the commodore and myself?

We return to England within the next months to attend the court-martial of Major Johnston for his overthrow of Governor Bligh in January ‘08.”

Darcy, upon meeting Campbell’s guests, recognised they all supported Bligh during the rebellion.

He did not doubt that Major Johnston would fail to defend his actions, but neither would Bligh remove the taint.

But to be seen supporting the law over rebellion would assist his father and his uncle, the earl, in their business both with government and also in Parliament. He would agree to the request.

Elizabeth listened to the exchange with interest. Campbell had positioned Mr. Darcy at the centre of the table for all to hear his conversation, his voice being articulate and easily understood.

Mr. Arndell asked a leading question, prepared in advance—and they were more than satisfied by Mr. Darcy’s response.

Here was someone, other than the governor, who understood London and was of the first circles of law and government.

He is so well connected, the nephew of an earl, she thought, and she a squire’s daughter of little consequence—that they were in society together astonished her.

“Miss Bennet, can I offer you more wine?” Mr. Stephen Campbell sat to Elizabeth’s left. He was a young man of about one and twenty years. In conversation, Elizabeth had learned he worked as a clerk in his uncle’s mercantile house but was setting up his own trading business.

“Thank you, sir, I would indeed, though I will have it watered a little. Do you intend to import wine when you are trading on your own account?”

“Yes, there are great profits to be made with good vintages, not the foul spirits imported by the officers. I’ve sampled Cape wine but found it rather insipid. Of course, the best comes from Madeira, but to establish contacts there is beyond my means.”

“Indeed, Madeira wine is very flavoursome,” replied she. “In particular, some delightful wine was served at Quinta do Prazer when we visited there. ”

Campbell regarded Elizabeth with astonishment.

“You visited the Phelps in Funchal! They’re the premier wine merchant on the island—they export all over the world.

None here can trade with the island because we have no standing, and an occasional purchase of a pipe of wine, such as that of Mr. Bent, is insufficient to set up a trading relationship with letters of credit and the like. ”

“But, sir, I could introduce you to my uncle, Mr. Edward Gardiner, who resides in London and trades frequently with Phelps and also with wine merchants in Lisbon and Porto. Perhaps with a letter of recommendation from Governor Macquarie, he could assist you in establishing some trade.”

Once again, Campbell stared at Elizabeth with astonishment—she was beginning to wonder whether some disfigurement marred her face.

She blushed, rather disconcerted by the intensity of his look.

The young man turned away and spoke loudly to Mr. Robert Campbell, his uncle, rudely interrupting the conversation at the foot of the table.

“Uncle,” he cried, “Miss Bennet is the niece of Gardiner of London!”

Once again the table went silent.

“Who’s this Gardiner?” exclaimed the commodore, annoyed at the interruption to his narrating his role in the Battle of Copenhagen, where he commanded the Glatton of 54 guns.

The senior Campbell quickly healed the breach.

“My apologies, commodore, but young Stephen didn’t mean any discourtesy to you. Please continue your narrative.”

The moment passed, and Bligh recovered his equanimity; the boy was young, and he required Campbell’s support in London as a witness to the court-martial. “’Tis no matter; there is more than enough time for such discourse on the journey to England.”

“So, Stephen, what’s this about Gardiner? He’d be a very fine contact indeed. ”

“’Tis Miss Bennet,” he replied. “Gardiner is her uncle. She also visited with Phelps in Funchal, Madeira.”

“Miss Bennet, you astound us all,” exclaimed the senior Mr. Campbell. “Not only do you manage farms, you also have relations in trade. Mr. Gardiner is well recognised as a merchant of sense, honesty, and remarkable business acumen.”

Elizabeth blushed. She had not chosen her relations; she had not known Mr. Gardiner was held in such esteem.

And not only in London, it seemed; here, ten thousand miles away, she was lauded for his being her uncle.

In the antipodes, the world was certainly turned upside down.

In London, having such an uncle living near Cheapside in sight of his warehouses would materially lessen her position in Society.

But Sydney was not London, not the ton. Here, this connection elevated her.

For reasons she did not understand, the idea irritated her—she preferred to garner respect for possessing virtues such as charity and justice, civility and honesty.

She giggled: of some virtues such as prudence and modesty—risking her respectability by acting as midwife, her descent of Table Mountain with her skirts drawn up to her knees—she was very much in deficit!

Watching her, Darcy once again saw a mix of emotions play across Miss Bennet’s handsome face: gratification, bashfulness, amusement, annoyance…

What was such to annoy her? Then he saw it.

He was valued for his connections to government and to the men of power in London.

Such could make a man wealthy… or break him.

So the merchants and settlers of Sydney would flatter him and seek his approbation and friendship.

But naught else would change; such was always the way for any man of wealth, rank, and influence.

But for Miss Bennet, she was now a prize: handsome, intelligent, of high rank in the colony, able to run an estate, and, most importantly, with connections .

In England, a connection to trade would lower her in the eyes of society; the doors to entry to the ton would be shut to her.

But here in the colony, in India, in the Americas, anywhere other than London’s first circles—the world of gilded butterflies— connections created wealth.

They were the bread and butter of trade, commerce, and business.

She would be pursued as relentlessly as hounds pursue a fox or run a badger to ground.

***

The dinner was very handsome, every dish commended, first by Mr. Bent and then by one or other of Mr. Campbell’s guests.

Their approbation was likened to a game, and Elizabeth soon forgot her sulk and watched the antics of those seated near her.

Mrs. Campbell seemed gratified by their admiration and gave most gracious smiles, especially when a dish on the table proved a novelty.

At some time during the meal, Elizabeth discovered her wine had not been watered as requested but was rather stronger in spirits than she was accustomed to.

Could a servant under some direction have added spirits to her drink?

She did not know; how could she tell if the drink had been spiked intentionally?

As she had told Mary— we gentlewomen are brought up too refined, too cloistered for our own well-being .

But Elizabeth was not made for such fruitless rumination; she satisfied herself that her drink had by mistake been switched for another, that there was no untoward intent, that her imagined fears were those of a young girl reading a Gothic novel, and that time would explain.

When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, little was to be done but hear Mrs. Putland talk about how ill her father had been treated by the officers during the mutiny.

Her diatribe was not uncommon, as the other ladies continued their small talk without paying the least notice to her.

Elizabeth came to stand by the table, intent on pouring another cup of the excellent coffee served by Mrs. Campbell.

“Do you prefer coffee to tea, Miss Bennet?” inquired Mrs. Putland, who finally noticed none were listening to her monologue.

“Usually, in the mornings I drink coffee, and in the afternoon I drink tea. But this is the finest coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

“It’s grown on the island of Java, inland from Batavia, and difficult to obtain given the embargoes on French and Dutch goods.

But I suppose such niceties as obeying the law are of no concern to Mr. Campbell.

” Mrs. Putland paused. “Do you perform, Miss Bennet? Mrs. Campbell has a fine Broadwood piano forte, though not, I understand, of the quality of the instrument Mrs. Macquarie brought with her from England.”