“While we were together, you know, there was nothing to be feared.”
After their time beside the sea, London felt cramped and noisy to Darcy. Its streets seemed too level, its buildings too numerous, its air too close. Though their town house was, as ever, an oasis of peace amidst the urban din, he was glad their time in the city would be of short duration. Soon they could return home to Pemberley, stopping en route to deliver Gerard’s sea chest to Riveton Hall—the final destination of its long journey.
First, however, Darcy was obliged to testify against Mr. Elliot and Sir Laurence in the Court of Admiralty. Artifacts had been found on both their properties—in the quarry caves at Sidmouth and in Sir Laurence’s art collection at Thornberry. When the evidence was combined with the testimony of Captain St. Clair, Admiral Croft, Darcy, and others, it was expected that the trials would be resolved fairly quickly. The numerous courts-martial for the corrupt naval officers would continue much longer.
Captain St. Clair called upon them nearly every evening. The Darcys had him to dinner more than once; in turn, they had dined at the home of St. Clair’s London sister, with whom he was staying. In his company and under his tutelage, Georgiana’s interest in things nautical had blossomed. She proved an apt and eager pupil, soon conversant in the jargon of man-o’-wars and seventy-fours, and she took particular pleasure in hearing him describe life aboard ship and the lands across the Atlantic where he had spent so much of his career. He, in turn, seemed as taken with her intellect, her conversation, and her gentle manner as he had been with her appearance on the evening he had first seen her. After years of hearing little in the way of music beyond fiddle tunes and sea ballads sung by men’s voices, he took particular pleasure in listening to her perform on the harp and piano, and he was delighted to be able to speak with her in languages he had acquired in his travels.
Now that the naval officer was free to represent himself honestly, Darcy found that he liked the young captain quite well—well enough that when he discovered his sister reading the Navy List in the drawing room one afternoon, he sat down on the sofa and looked at it with her.
They talked—about Mr. Wickham and Sir Laurence, about trust broken and judgment deceived. They forgave each other—and most important, forgave themselves—for their perceived failure to recognize such determined scoundrels until nearly too late. They shuddered at what might have been, and looked forward to what might be.
“Sir Laurence is a criminal, and I am grateful to have escaped the future I thought I wanted,” Georgiana said, “but I did learn something from him. The more I reflect upon my conversations with him, the more I realize how much they were about him—his interests, his tastes, his opinions—and how little about me. I think he had decided to acquire a wife, and I answered his criteria. Had we wed, I would have become simply another object in his collection. Next time, I shall hold out for a man who expresses at least passing curiosity about what I think, and feel, and want.”
“What is it that you want, Georgiana?”
“Purpose, foremost—something more meaningful than endless balls and dinners and theatre parties. Variety—of places and people and activity. And a home of my own.” She paused. “I believe it is time I left Pemberley to you and Elizabeth and your children.”
They were in no hurry for her to go. “Pemberley is your home as long as you want it.”
“I know it is. But I would like to be mistress of my own. It does not have to be a grand home, just mine—and my husband’s, of course.”
Darcy smiled. “I am glad to hear you intend to let him share it, whoever the poor fellow may be.”
“You should indeed feel sorry for him, as my previous failures have increased my requirements. I want a man of integrity and principle, whom I can respect and admire, who respects and appreciates me in turn, and who makes me feel safe, happy, and loved.” She paused. “In short, I want what Elizabeth has.”
He smiled again at her praise, but said very seriously, “That is what I want for you, too.”
She picked up the Navy List, still in her lap, and set it aside. “And if he looks handsome in blue, so much the better.”
He laughed and put his arm around her. She rested her head against him, as she had when she was small. She was more than ten years his junior, and they had lost their mother on the day she was born. He had been protecting Georgiana her entire life; it would take just such a man to persuade him to relinquish that role.
“He is in a dangerous profession,” Darcy said. Though they had not spoken directly of St. Clair throughout their discussion, there was no need to identify the “he” by name. “I would not want to see your heart broken like Miss Wright’s.”
“I have given this much consideration,” she replied. “Nobody lives in perfect safety, and we are at peace now, which makes his profession less dangerous than it was. But even should war come again—it is a risk I am willing to take.”
They had been in town a fortnight when a captain in full dress uniform came to call. He entered their drawing room a striking figure. Gold lace edged the collar, lapels, pockets, and tails of his dark blue coat; an additional two rows of gold distinction lace striped his cuffs. The insignia of his two epaulettes—a crown over a silver anchor with a rope twined round it—marked him as a captain of seniority; the symbol also adorned the gilt buttons of his coat and breeches. Another anchor—sans crown—graced the gold and ivory hilt of his sword. His tall bicorne hat easily added another foot to his height—and to the aura of authority he projected.
This was a commander whose presence instilled courage, an officer whose conduct exemplified honor, a leader whose integrity inspired trust.
A man who, judging from the glow in her eyes, Georgiana would follow anywhere.
“Captain St. Clair.” Her lips pursed as she tried to greet him with an appearance of dignity that matched his, and to restrain the smile that wanted to spread across her countenance. But the image he presented proved too great a force for her to disguise its effect on her, and her eyes betrayed the pride and happiness she took in seeing him at last able to publicly assume the rank to which merit had raised him years ago.
“Good evening, Miss Darcy.” He removed his hat and tucked it under his arm.
“The tailor has finally finished your new uniform, I see.”
“Do you approve it?”
The smile would not be checked any longer. “It will do.”
“I have come direct from the Admiralty,” he said. “The board has appointed me captain of the Black Cormorant, now a Royal Navy frigate renamed the Perseverance.”
“There is no one more deserving of that ship.” Her smile spread farther. “Your own command at last! Where will you be stationed?”
“I am under orders to the West Indies, to retrieve the remaining cache of gold.”
“Oh!—so far away.” Her smile faded, but she quickly recovered it. “But a part of the world you know well. And an important commission.”
“It is, indeed—and a profitable one. I will receive a captain’s share of whatever treasure we bring from there. Meanwhile, the Lords Commissioners have approved and released to me a reward of fifteen thousand pounds from contraband already seized, for my service in bringing the smugglers to justice.”
Though St. Clair addressed Georgiana, his gaze shifted to meet Darcy’s. As their eyes met, Darcy could see that this information was directed equally to him. And he knew why.
Fifteen thousand pounds, combined with Georgiana’s marriage settlement—not to mention whatever prize resulted from St. Clair’s retrieval of the remaining treasure—would provide a more than ample income upon which to wed.
“This is all very good news, Captain,” Darcy said. “In fact, I am sure Mrs. Darcy will want to hear it directly. If you will excuse me, I shall go find her.”
“Of course.”
“I believe she is in the nursery,” he added deliberately. “It may take me a while to disengage her from Lily-Anne.”
Andrew St. Clair, like any clever captain, knew how to employ an opportunity to advantage. There was one commission that he coveted even more than the post to which the Admiralty had just appointed him, and he now made his application with all the determination and hope for success of an officer initiating the most important engagement of his life.
In little more than a minute, Georgiana’s hand was in his.
In the next, it was his forever.
By the third, she was in his arms, and this time, with no other eyes upon them, he could hold her as tightly and for as long as they both wished. He did, then kissed her.
And laughed.
She pulled away just enough to look up at his face. “What amuses you?”
“The last time I had the privilege of holding you close, you were coughing up seawater on me. This is far preferable.”
He kissed her again and reluctantly released her, but she did not go far. She smoothed the lapels of his coat, her fingertips lingering on the gold lace.
“When do you leave for the West Indies?”
“As soon as I can raise a crew, which should not take much time. I have served on enough ships that I know many dependable men now seeking work, and officers I can rely upon. We shall have a fine complement.”
“How long will you be away?”
“Only as long as I must. Even so, it will be a journey of at least three or four months. Perhaps longer.”
Though a faint shadow passed across her face, she allowed it to stay only a moment before forcing away the evidence of her disappointment. “I suppose that is not too long to wait to become Mrs. St. Clair.”
“I had rather hoped Mrs. St. Clair would accompany me.” He again took her hands in his. “Though you will have every comfort in my power to provide, a captain’s cabin is a long way from Pemberley, and life aboard ship is not easy. But if you come with me, you will see such wonders as I hope will make the inconveniences worthwhile. And I dare hope my companionship will offer some attraction.”
He drew her closer. “What say you, Georgiana? Do you want to see the New World with me?”
“I do.” Her expression reflected such happiness that it could be matched only by his own.
Nevertheless, he searched her face for signs of doubt. “Are you certain that you want to board a ship again—this ship in particular—after the accident at Lyme?”
“I am certain,” she said without hesitation. Then she smiled. “How else will I ever have an opportunity to see a bo’sun standing on the fo’c’sle?”
He laughed. “Pronounced like a true sailor—you have learned well. Next I shall teach you to swim.”
“I shall master that, too.”
“I have no doubt.”
“Nor do I—about any part of your proposal.” Her countenance became solemn. “Though I am not as traveled as you, I have seen enough of the world to know that life is not all clear sailing. Whether we are on a ship or on the shore, there will be storms to weather. But whatever comes—” She pressed his hands, still holding hers, and regarded him with perfect surety.
“So long as you are with me, Captain, I know I have a sheet anchor.”