Page 32 of Lizzie’s Spirit

Darcy assisted Elizabeth to the mounting block.

Again, a fragrant scent of sandalwood and amber drifted in the chill morning air.

Oh, Mr. Darcy’s eau de cologne, realised Elizabeth.

He placed his hands around her waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the saddle.

She could scarcely look at him. After the intimacy of their conversation on the previous eve and now the physical intimacy of his hands about her, her mind was a tumult.

Sensations she had hardly known before made her tremble.

The horse nickered, stepping lightly to one side.

Elizabeth quickly brought it under control, though her emotions continued to disconcert her.

“I thought,” said Mr. Darcy, “that we would ride along the South Head Road, towards the flagstaff.”

“An excellent direction, as I’ve not journeyed that way. ‘Tis the road to the Heads, is it not?”

They rode in silence for some time. For Elizabeth, it enabled her to compose herself, but she could not keep her disquiet contained.

“Mr. Darcy, I find I must apologise to you. I took advantage of your kindness in assisting me last night, but I should never have imposed upon you so. My impropriety was most unbecoming.”

“Miss Elizabeth, you have nothing for which to apologise. As I stated, I’m your lawful guardian.

What could be more natural than that you should confide in me?

Indeed, ‘tis I who should apologise to you: I failed in my duty to protect you from the libertines who masquerade as officers and gentlemen. ”

Their conversation was disjointed; both were ill at ease.

The road skirted Woolloomooloo Bay, where Commissary John Palmer had his house, an elegant building where Darcy had been entertained in the company of the governor.

They could see, between the house and the bay, several Eora camping.

The view was extensive, more so since they were on horseback.

Elizabeth relaxed. She would enjoy the excursion.

Past the house, the road proceeded to climb the long incline to the vantage point known as Belle Vue .

From here, the view was certainly breathtaking, showing the many bays and coves of Port Jackson, smoke drifting into the air from the camps dotted along the shoreline, and the abrupt termination of land at the great cliffs dividing New Holland from the Pacific Ocean.

The route ran along the top of the ridge, which marked the highest points between Port Jackson to the north and Botany Bay to the south.

On one side, wooded valleys dropped away to the bays of Port Jackson, while on the other, there were scrubby sandy hills, marshes, and ponds.

Elizabeth was astonished that so many diverse landscapes could be observed from the one vantage point; so unlike the rolling hills of Hertfordshire, with their green pastures and verdant woods, so similar in all directions.

They came to a place where the road veered northwards.

Towards the east, a low-lying sandy area dipped steeply down to high sand dunes, beyond which they could discern the roar of the ocean.

“Shall we descend to Boondi beach, which, I am told, means water tumbling over rocks? I’m told the waves rolling in from the ocean are magnificent to behold.”

“Most assuredly. Whilst I have experienced great ocean swells from Madeira to the Cape and those enormous waves when we rounded Van Diemen’s Land, which, at the time, I feared would overturn us, I find I can hardly take in enough of the ocean’s grand spectacle.”

A narrow track wound down to the dunes and led onto the beach.

To one end of the beach, a small creek drained the lagoon behind.

They watered the horses and then, securing them to graze on the native grasses, Elizabeth and Darcy descended to the very edge of the pounding surf.

Here, they were beset by the booming of the waves crashing against the rocky shoreline bounding the beach.

Mist from the breaking waves filled the salty air.

“Oh, Mr. Darcy,” cried Elizabeth, “such majesty and power. Why, those waves at their crest would stand taller than yourself!”

Darcy took her hand, unconsciously done, as he had many times with little Georgiana as they walked the beach at Scarborough when she was a small child, before his mother’s death, when his sister was but four years old and he sixteen.

He felt a thrill of connection, a memory of holding such a dainty gloved hand once before.

“I’ve already scandalised you, sir, with my disclosures of last night. But would you be shocked at my impropriety if I removed my boots and stockings and walked barefoot in the sand at the water’s edge?”

“Only if you allow me the privilege of doing the same. Let us leave our stockings and boots, together with our gloves, near the dunes, away from the water lest a rising tide carry them away.”

This is so unseemly, that Mr. Darcy should see my ankles. Elizabeth laughed—impetuosity winning out over decorum. I may regret the impropriety later, but on a glorious day such as this, I cannot care.

Having traversed the beach, they turned and made their way back to the northern end, where they had left the horses.

Before the magic of the day dissipated, Darcy knew the time had come to make his approach to the lady he had grown to admire and respect more than any other.

He considered her the handsomest woman of his acquaintance.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he began.

His nervous demeanour and serious tone gave Elizabeth pause. Oh, was he now to censure me for my forwardness, my improper display of my ankles, my impropriety of the night before?

“This is most difficult for me,” he continued hesitantly, “but I must confess that when we met at the stables, I had already determined to call upon you at the orphanage. There has arisen an issue that we must discuss.”

Elizabeth’s eyes moistened; this was serious indeed—should I regret my impetuosity already?

“As I recounted, Mr. Bent is to resign, and I have acceded to his role to be judge-advocate for New South Wales. It’s a position that I have only reluctantly accepted—but there’s no other who is sufficiently well-versed in the law to advise the Governor and preside over the colony’s courts and tribunals. ”

Of course, he’s the only one who could take on such a role; he’s now third in rank to the Governor. She was confused, but how does this concern me, young Lizzie Bennet from Meryton?

“As you know, many women possess loose morals. Sarah Wood, whom you met, is one of the better ones; many are worse than her, descended to vice and depravity. It’s now my lot to pronounce judgement on them should they transgress the law and the orders of the Governor, which, I fear, will happen often.

Colonel Macquarie believes, as do I, that being unmarried may leave me exposed to their wiles and allurements; they might compromise me, forcing me to abandon my duty.

It is decided, therefore, that I must marry. ”

As a friend and woman I can perhaps assist him in choosing a suitable wife.

But he, a nephew of an earl, would be most particular.

Should he return to England, her connections would need to be acceptable to the ton; her dowry must be sufficient to provide a lifestyle according to his rank in society; her education and accomplishments must be superior—maybe those gained through attendance at a private seminary in London—and she must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages.

Most families here in Sydney are engaged in trade, but many, through their wealth, would rank sufficiently high.

Mrs. Putland, the daughter of Commodore Bligh, who would be promoted to Admiral on his return to England, may suit.

Mr. John Palmer was a distinguished naval officer—but his daughter was only seven years!

She must write a list; together she and Mr. Darcy will find those suitable for him to offer for.

Who could refuse him? He was the kind of man, indeed, to whom none would ever refuse anything that he condescended to ask.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy interrupted her meditation, “I find I’m awkward in discussing personal matters, that I can write my thoughts and feelings better than I can express them.

Therefore, at the risk of offending you, please know I seek only your good opinion and would never consciously pain you… ”

This was not the direction she thought the conversation would go. She had heard Mr. Darcy’s oratory as a barrister—she knew nothing awkward with his speech.

“I wish to say I respect and admire you. That you are the best of women. That when you confided in me, told me of your troubles and wretchedness, I was most humbled by your faith in my good character; that I wished for your happiness.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he addressing me?

His talk of marriage, his respecting and admiring me, that he considered me the best of women, that he required a wife, and that his affections were for my happiness.

The tumult of her mind was now painfully great; she who only the evening before had pronounced marriage could only be tolerable .

She could barely wait for him to continue his address.

“You’re too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are opposed to it, tell me so at once. Nevertheless, my dearest Elizabeth, will you do me the honour of being my wife?”