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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-A
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.”
Epilogue
Who can be in doubt of what followed? When any two young people take it into their heads to marry, they are pretty sure by perseverance to carry their point.
While Captain St. Clair oversaw the hiring of his crew and the refitting of his ship, Georgiana attended to the inviting of their wedding guests and the fitting of her trousseau. High on the list of invitees—after all their relations—were Admiral and Mrs. Croft, with whom Georgiana formed a fast and firm friendship, and St. Clair’s strengthened. In preparing for life aboard a frigate, Georgiana benefited tremendously from the experience of Mrs. Croft, who, inseparable from the admiral, had spent most of her marriage on warships. Her advice was practical and comprehensive, and her nostalgia for the sea and foreign ports made Georgiana all the more eager to embark on her new life.