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Lieutenant St. Clair appeared as surprised as they to discover that he had already met Gerard Fitzwilliam’s family. His gaze took them in, lingering on Georgiana before finally reaching Darcy.
“Well,” he said, “this is a happy coincidence.”
“Indeed.” Darcy had not decided yet whether “happy” was the term he would use, though St. Clair’s quick-thinking aid with Mrs. Clay had raised him higher in Darcy’s regard. Darcy gestured toward the sea chest. “Please, let me relieve you of your burden.”
He moved forward to assist St. Clair, but the sailor set the chest onto the floor in an easy motion. “It is no burden, I assure you. I only regret that I have been unable to deliver it before now.”
“We appreciate your having kept it in your custody all this while.”
“That commission has been my privilege.” The officer’s ma
Darcy made the proper introductions between St. Clair and the ladies, whom the lieutenant acknowledged with a bow.
“It is a pleasure to meet you on more stable ground, Miss Darcy.” The allusion to Georgiana’s slip on the steps brought color to her cheeks. “I trust you suffered no ill effects from our first meeting?”
“I am quite well, thank you.” Despite her evident self-consciousness, Georgiana answered with composure, even offering him a faint smile.
“I am relieved to hear it.” The lieutenant’s gaze rested on her a moment more before turning to Darcy. “Had I known during our previous encounters that you were the party I was engaged to meet tonight, I would have taken the liberty of introducing myself before now.”
“All of our thoughts were occupied by more pressing concerns this morning,” Darcy replied.
“They were, indeed. I regret that our rescue efforts proved insufficient to save Mrs. Clay. When I called upon the Harvilles this afternoon to enquire after her, they told me her fate. At least, however, the child survives. Is he yet with the Harvilles?”
“No, with his father,” Elizabeth said. “Sir Walter Elliot.”
“Sir Walter? I understood Mrs. Clay to be under the protection of a Mr. William Elliot.”
“It seems to have been a rather complicated state of affairs,” Darcy said.
“We are grateful that you came along on the Cobb when you did,” Elizabeth added, “else I do not know how we would have found a safe place where Mrs. Clay—Lady Elliot—could deliver her child, let alone have transported her there. Did you simply happen upon us, or did you witness the accident?”
“As I approached the quay, I saw her on the ground, with you attending her.”
Disappointment crossed Elizabeth’s countenance. Darcy, too, wished that Lieutenant St. Clair had been able to put to rest her doubts regarding the cause of the accident.
“I assumed at the time that she was of your party,” St. Clair continued, “though I later realized that you were merely passers-by, like myself. How did she come to injury? I expect she fell from the upper wall, or descending the steps?”
“We do not ourselves know with certainty,” Darcy replied. “We had seen her on the upper wall not long before, but paid her little mind. After lightning struck the merchant ship, we took the far steps to lower ground and found her as she was when you arrived.”
“When you saw her before the accident, was anyone with her?”
“No.” It now struck Darcy as odd that Lady Elliot had been on the Cobb unescorted. Propriety dictated that women of her status did not roam public streets unaccompanied, let alone in such a delicate condition.
“I suppose, then, that we shall never know the particulars,” St. Clair said.
“Nor will her child,” Georgiana said softly. Until now, she had followed the conversation in silence. Like the rest of them, she wore a sober expression—they spoke of a tragic matter, after all—yet hers held something more, and Darcy suspected what might occupy his sister’s thoughts. Their own mother had died within hours of giving birth to Georgiana. The circumstances had been far different—she had died peacefully, in her own bed, their father at her side—but Georgiana possessed a heart that could not help but empathize with the baby Lady Elliot left behind.
A change of subject was in order. “Will you take a glass of wine with us, Lieutenant?” Darcy asked. “We would very much like to hear about your voyages with my cousin, if you would be so generous as to indulge us.”
Elizabeth, too, recognized the need to shift the mood. “Yes—please sit down.” She gestured toward an armchair. “We have been looking forward to this meeting.”
As Darcy signaled a footman to bring wine, Elizabeth and Georgiana settled on the sofa. Lieutenant St. Clair did not take the chair that Elizabeth had indicated, but one opposite it—a chair with no arms that could interfere with the sword hanging at his side. The seat also put the officer closer to Georgiana.
Georgiana cast off the melancholy that had temporarily claimed her and addressed Lieutenant St. Clair with the attentiveness due a guest. “You mentioned in your letter that you are recently returned from the West Indies,” she said. “Have you spent much time in that part of the world?”
“Most of my career.” St. Clair accepted a wineglass from the servant. “I first sailed there as a midshipman under Captain Croft—Admiral Croft, now—and returned many times. As you know, that was the destination of the Magna Carta, the ship on which I served with Lieutenant Fitzwilliam.”
“That was his first voyage across the Atlantic.” Darcy’s gaze strayed to the sea chest as he took the chair nearest it. The small trunk elicited in him feelings of both curiosity and sorrow. Gerard had died much too young, his naval career barely begun. The contents of the chest were all that remained of his service to the Royal Navy, and Lieutenant St. Clair, one of few people—the only one Darcy had personally met—who had known that side of him. “Were you well acquainted with my cousin?”
“Fairly well. As you might imagine, living for months in the confines of a ship rather restricts one’s society, and the higher an officer’s rank, the fewer his equals. The Magna Carta had a complement of nearly three hundred fifty, but of that number only a handful were commissioned officers. Lieutenant Fitzwilliam had just been made, and so was the most junior lieutenant. As first lieutenant, I took him under my wing, though he needed my guidance in few matters. By the time we left Jamaica on our return voyage, I relied upon him as confidently as I did the other lieutenants. More so, in some instances.”
“Why is that?” Elizabeth asked.
“He was quick-minded, brave but not foolhardy, loyal to the navy and proud to be serving His Majesty. He reminded me of myself not too many years earlier. Indeed, we had much in common—both younger sons making our own way in the world, and determined to make our fortunes in the process.”
Lieutenant St. Clair shared several stories of Gerard, tales that rekindled Darcy’s memories of his cousin’s integrity, intelligence, and good humor, while also casting him in new light. Darcy found it revealing to hear someone so close to him described by a stranger.
Darcy’s gaze drifted to Georgiana. But fifteen when she had last seen Gerard, she had been so proud of her older cousin—proud of his dedication to the service, his sense of honor and duty, the fine appearance he presented in navy blue. It was little wonder that shortly afterward she had fallen prey to the reprehensible George Wickham, another lifelong acquaintance who looked dashing in uniform. She had learned, nearly too late, that impeccable regimentals ca
The conversation ebbed temporarily, one of those quiet pauses when new acquaintances are unsure where the discussion should next lead. It was Georgiana who broke the silence.