Georgiana rose and embraced him, a gesture she had not made for years. “I love you dearly, Brother. Promise me that you will be careful.”
“I promise to be as careful as circumstances allow.” He held her close, struck by how fragile she felt in his arms. She was still so young, so trusting, despite the harsh lesson Wickham taught her about the world’s capacity for deception.
Should I not return from this journey, Georgiana will be the sole surviving Darcy.The thought chilled him. Pemberley and all its responsibilities would fall on her slender shoulders. He had already spoken with theiruncle, Lord Matlock, designating him as guardian should the worst befall him and Richard. He accepted the position readily.
“Georgiana,” he said. “You know that Uncle Hugh and Aunt Helen care for you?”
“Of course. They have been nothing but kind to me.”
“Should anything unexpected occur during my absence, you must remember that you are not alone. They will always be there to guide you until my return.”
She pulled back to look at him, concern clouding her features. “Fitzwilliam, you are frightening me. What dangers do you expect?”
“None that cannot be overcome with proper caution.” He forced a reassuring smile. “I merely want you to know that you are surrounded by people who love you, whatever the future may bring.”
Just as I would never permit Georgiana to undertake such a journey, I wish Elizabeth would remain safely on English soil.The parallel struck him with uncomfortable clarity. Both women were precious to him, though in vastly different ways. But now, since Georgiana was free to flourish under the Matlocks’ careful watch, he could focus his complete attention on Elizabeth.
He could not bear the thought that she would be without someone who truly cared for her welfare close at hand if he had not chosen to go.
“I shall count the days until your return.” Georgiana settled back on the settee with her journal. “And I shall fill every page with such detailed accounts that you will feel you never left London at all.”
“That would be the greatest gift you could give to me.”
A surge of freedom rose in him. He would pursue what he wanted most. Elizabeth’s affection. To gain that prize, he would show her the man he was beneath the pride that had wounded her. He would court her properly. He would prove himself worthy of the most remarkable woman he had ever known.
7
Elizabeth spent the days before departure gathering supplies and instructions from her uncle Gardiner. She learned about the Levant Company, a powerful English trading corporation that held a monopoly on British commerce with the Ottoman Empire. Like the East India Company, it operated as a joint-stock business with shareholders and appointed governors. It was under their authority that her uncle imported and exported with the three merchant vessels he owned. TheMary Catherine,a two-masted merchant brig named for Mr. Gardiner’s eldest daughter, would carry them for the entire journey.
The morning their ship sailed, Elizabeth stepped into the quarters she would be sharing with her father. Her mouth fell open as she took in the cramped space. She pressed her palms against the rough wooden walls, no more than an arm’s span apart. The musty smell of old timber and tar filled her nostrils. Turning in a slow circle, her skirts brushed the bottom bunk. Through the thinwooden partitions, she could hear one of the crewmen’s rough speech as he packed crates into one of the other rooms. How would she dress in such a space? Her gaze traveled up to the top bunk, so close to the ceiling that she would not be able to sit upright.
Another uncomfortable thought struck. Where would she tend to her most private needs? The chamber pot would have to be emptied by… Her cheeks burned at the thought. The contrast between this cabin and her bedchamber at Longbourn made her dizzy.
Elizabeth imagined her mother and younger sisters pressed together into the small cabin, sleeping in shifts. She chuckled at the thought but then sobered. No, it was best that they remained behind. She would not have been able to bear their complaints.
Stripping off her gloves, she began the practical work of settling in. Books lay scattered across the narrow bed, a stool, and a tiny bedside table like fallen leaves. Armfuls at a time, she packed them into wooden crates beside the bunk, shoving them underneath until they settled into place. Her fingers fumbled with the latches of her trunk. Bonnets, gowns, and nightclothes came out one by one, hung on wooden pegs that jutted from the wall like accusing fingers. Each were buttoned in the front since she would have no one to help her dress.
Every inch of storage space was assessed. What was essential, what could be packed away. Propping open the cabin door, Elizabeth let in the London fog. Unfortunately, the cool morning air brought the smells of the tide and waterfront filth with it. Salt-tinged, the breeze carried voices from the dock—sailors shouting orders, fishmongers singing out their wares, carts and wheelbarrowsrumbling over cobblestones. The cacophony made her temples throb.
Her father was in the common room, or what a crew member called the galley, searching the shelves nailed to the wall for any new reading material. Elizabeth longed to be on deck, absorbing the sights and sounds to document in her journal.
When she left the cabin, a boy blocked her path up the ladder. His elbows poked through his worn shirt, and knobby knees were visible through holes in his trousers. His hair hung in uneven chunks, black as London soot. She noticed a wide gap between his front teeth. Although he grinned up at her, his gaze darted from her face to her hands to the ladder behind him with a wariness that belonged to someone much older.
“I be Tommy, the ship’s boy.Ye best stay in yer quarters, miss, until we cast off and are on the river for a bit. You could trip over the lines and get in the way.”
“I see. Very well, Tommy. I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet. This is my first voyage.”
“Well, tain’t mine. Been at sea since I was young. Probably made half a dozen or more trips to Gibraltar and beyond.”
“You have been six times?” Her brow arched.
“Well, maybe not that many. Enough to know where we be goin’.”
“I am pleased to hear it, Tommy. I will do as you suggest and remain here. Be safe.”
He touched his cap and scampered up the ladder with the agility of a monkey, his bare feet finding purchase on narrow stairs slick with sea spray.
Elizabeth sank into the small stool someone long agofastened to the wall, which groaned under the weight. Retrieving her journal and graphite pencil, she wrote the day’s date:2 April 1812, Thursday.Here she was, aboard a ship.
