Chapter 102

After a lovely Sunday spent at Pemberley, renewing acquaintance with its beautiful park and some of its inhabitants, and two more days of comfortable but ceaseless travel, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam arrive in Newcastle. Their lodgings are quite a ways from the town itself, but rather close to the army camp where Wickham is stationed, though not at a rambling distance.

'The horses need their exercise anyway, and if we don't take the carriage Bob will be bored. Frankly, I suspect he likes arriving with these horses, and telling the staff of other houses about them.'

'But if you take Bob, poor Fanny will be bored instead.'

'Well, you take her along then. You know Manners has Simon spy for him, who knows what Lydia's maid has to tell Fanny that you would never find out on your own.'

So instead of their morals rubbing off on Frederick they are now going to adapt his methods? So be it, then. Elizabeth is sure it'll work perfectly, and Fitzwilliam can see his suggestion is well-received.

'But tonight we are not going anywhere, as soon as we reach the inn we are going to explore, and then we'll have a romantic dinner for two. I'm afraid I'll have to spend half an hour on sending messages, to Wickham's captain, and to the colonel of this camp, with uncle Spencer's compliments. Fitzwilliam's, too. But that can wait until it's dark, rambling first, to get the kinks out of our limbs. I feel like I'm stuck in angles from sitting on a carriage seat all day.'

Imagine how Bob and Fanny must feel, the box seat is a lot harder still, and it's cold out there. But they never complain, in fact they seem very content to be together all day.

By now, they can see a large city ahead, in the valley of a broad river. It seems they are nearing the coast, for the vegetation changes and there are gulls flying overhead most of the time.

'We're passing by the city as much as we can, we have no business there until tomorrow. We just need to cross the bridge. Our lodgings are in a little village called Whitley, it's right on the coast, but it's not very popular with those looking for a place to bathe, I've been told it's a mining village. Limestone and coal, apparently. Still, we'll be looking to Newcastle for our entertainment, and the army camp for business.'

'I'll be glad if it's just the two of us on the beach, my love, I'm sure we'll find something to do by ourselves. You know I've never seen the sea before, I'm looking forward to this very much.'

'You'll love it, Elizabeth, though at first you'll have to get used to the smell. I hope it won't be much worse in Whitley since it's mostly a mining village. They may be even more inclined to just dispose of their garbage into the sea, causing it to stink. In Brighton that is prohibited, local people make a lot of money out of visitors from all over the country coming there to bathe in the sea. Or just breathe in the sea wind. Or just visit stupid parties.'

'I've seen so little of the world, Fitzwilliam, I wish I had travelled before. But you can imagine my father didn't much feel like it.'

'With five daughters and your mother, it would be torture. And your father likes his known comforts, his books, his study. But you did go to Derbyshire with your aunt and uncle, and viewed all the great houses, I'm sure.'

'We did, yes. But Pemberley was the crown on all of them. Did I ever tell you I had a moment's regret over rejecting you when I realised how magnificent it was? I was quite put out with myself. But it passed quickly, until you noticed me, and treated me nicely.'

'I wish I had known. I so wanted to know what you thought of me, whether you still hated me so much.'

'I suppose I didn't think of that: when we met again in Derbyshire I already had an idea who you really were and regretted not knowing before. Then when you were nice to me I started to realise you were the perfect match for me. But I had the same doubts you had, I thought what happened must have surely made you resentful.'

'It seems ages ago, Elizabeth, but it's been no more than six months. If you want to, we can start travelling this summer. Go to Brighton, and didn't you want to see the Lakes?'

'I did. I still do, but it's not a very strong wish. I'm sure I'll be very happy at Pemberley with all our friends around. Let's enjoy this little trip first, I'm a bit afraid you'll find it a real burden, my love, having to face Wickham when you abhor him so much. And all for my foolish sister, who doesn't deserve that kind of attention at all.'

'Reminiscing with Anne has made me aware Wickham and I used to be good friends at one time, my love. For old times' sake I will do my best to have him promoted, despite the danger to him personally. And you know, he is a bit of a hero still, facing Grenfell at his worst.'

Their conversation is now hindered by the scenery outside: a beautiful vista is opening up to them, with the sea in the distance, a gentle rolling incline separating land and water, except for a little bay, where the land spreads out almost to sea level and a broad sandy beach shows itself. It's just beautiful.

'That's Whitley, Elizabeth, it's exactly as it was described to me: a tiny village with beautiful views. Our inn should be on the other side of the village, away from the bustle of a working community.'

Whitley looks way too picturesque to be a mining town, she cannot imagine why sightseers don't frequent this place, it's such a fine little village. The houses look not so much built by human hands as grown there of their own accord. As they draw nearer, she can see the painted shutters set off against the white walls, and the low walls surrounding the tiny gardens. There is a kind of path following the coastline in front of the houses, and Bob skilfully guides the horses across the rocky trail. Before Elizabeth has looked her fill of the endless sea stretching out in front of her, the carriage halts. They're here!

She looks out of the window on the other side, and nearly gasps in wonderment. This must be the most beautiful house she ever saw! It's standing on its own, a ways from the village itself, in an expanse of sturdy green-grey grass. There is not a tree in sight.

The house itself is built of the local white limestone, two stories high with windows shuttered against the sea wind. A sizeable turret stands on one side, covered with a beautiful slate roof, its windows spread over the whole width of the structure. The view must be spectacular. The house has nothing of the squareness most houses possess, it also seems to have just grown here, out of the limestone underlying the whole landscape, it must be a local style. It's in a state of perfect maintenance, and the garden is very neat. Elizabeth supposes there are few plants that can live in the salt-spray so close to the sea, and indeed the plants inside the garden are much the same as those outside.

'Oh Fitzwilliam, I think I'm in love!' she exclaims, and her beloved grins broadly. He did well.

And then he opens the door of the carriage, and she can smell it: the sea. It's indeed a unique smell, tangy, salty, but how did Fitzwilliam get the idea that it would take some getting used to? That it would be in any way unpleasant? This is wholesome and clean, and Elizabeth spends her first minutes outside the carriage just breathing.

Until the door opens and a robust woman in her forties strides towards them. She is dressed immaculately in dark wool with a white apron and a white cap. Her hair is still very dark, making her seem younger than she really is. Or, Elizabeth realises, the exposure to the salty wind and sun has aged her face beyond her years. She may in fact be somewhat younger than she looks.

Though she curtsies elegantly, this is not a humble villager receiving noble guests, Elizabeth guesses the people in this town are very self-sufficient and rather independent. Their hostess confirms this impression by greeting them heartily rather than reverently, as most of the inn staff have on their travels so far since they are travelling with an unmarked carriage and just a driver, no liveried attendants.

'Mr and Mrs Darcy, I presume?' she hails them, and as Fitzwilliam nods in acknowledgement, continues, 'you are very welcome here, sir, ma'am, my name is Esme Herbert, the proprietor of this quaint little place. My manservant will show your man the stables and bring in your luggage, while I will show you to your rooms. I've prepared my best suite for you, in the turret.'

And with brisk efficiency and great hospitality, though little deference to Fitzwilliam's status, she proceeds to show them the house, the dining-room, the communal room where her guests can meet. 'Most of my guests are on business here, and they like to sit together in the evenings and discuss coal or stone.' And then on to their own rooms, in the turret. To get from their sitting-room to their bedroom they have to climb a cast-iron stairs, but it's well-worth the effort: the turret indeed has windows all around it, and the view is spectacular.

Their hostess hands Fitzwilliam the keys to the premises, no butler here, and observes, 'My man will hand your man his own set of keys. I have assigned your maid a room at the back of the house, my staff quarters are not suitable for a lady's maid, as I said, I usually have businessmen staying here, with male staff only. Meals are included, though meeting you I wonder whether you will be joining us for dinner. We serve but simple fare.'

Fitzwilliam smiles, he is not used to baser accommodations like these, but he likes his landlady.

'We will gladly join you for breakfast every day, I suspect we will usually be away during lunch, and I expect we'll have to dine with connections once or twice. But we are planning to spend most evenings by ourselves, so we will be very pleased to have our dinner here. In the common room, with your other guests. We'll send word if we plan to dine outside the house. And Miss Herbert, we prefer simple fare, please do not put yourself out for our sakes.'

The landlady's face shows a sadness that follows well-worn lines, a great tragedy has befallen her recently.

'It's Mrs Herbert, Mr Darcy. I've been recently widowed, my late and much beloved husband left me this establishment and I'm keen to make it a success.'

Fitzwilliam bows to her, showing his sympathy, and says, 'I'm sorry to hear that, Mrs Herbert, please forgive me my mistake.'

'Well, I should have introduced myself correctly. And life goes on, Mr Darcy, living out here on the coast we see proof all day of our own insignificance compared to the majesty and endurance of nature.'

'You have the soul of a poet, Mrs Herbert,' he replies, 'if that is the effect of living here I'm certain we will enjoy our stay very much, despite having our own business to attend to. Thank you very much for your care.'

Mrs Herbert curtseys again, then leaves them in their room, where Fanny has arrived and is hanging out Elizabeth's dresses and Fitzwilliam's coats, to keep them from wrinkling.

'How did you find this place, love?' Elizabeth now asks, 'it's just perfect, I can't think why it's not overrun with travellers.'

'Fitzwilliam had it recommended to him by a fellow officer who used to be stationed here. Rightfully so, I guess, the view is stunning. Let's go out and explore, leave Fanny to work in peace.'

And they do go out for a long ramble, such good exercise after another two days sitting in a carriage. They go straight for the shore, find a path down the incline and reach the beach, much narrower here than closer to the village.

'The tide is high,' Fitzwilliam observes, stroking a tendril of hair from his face, this wind is making a nice mess out of his rather unkempt hair. Elizabeth has always thought having a valet a vanity, but Simon has convinced his master to let his hair grow a little longer and now it really does need some attention. Tomorrow Elizabeth will make an effort to tidy it up a little, maybe she cannot accomplish a shaking dog, but she can help him look less like a tramp in wind like this. He does look ravishing, and she stops to embrace and kiss him. That only takes a few minutes, and soon they are back at their walk, Elizabeth very glad she decided to wear her comfortable winter boots to keep her feet warm in the carriage. The sand is difficult to walk through, but Fitzwilliam knows beaches and he soon moves to where the sand is wet and a lot firmer.

'Look, my love, can you see the water receding?'

He points at a rock lying at the water's edge, and indeed, it gets more exposed as their walk continues past it.

'When we head back we will be able to find what the water left behind, shells, crabs, bits and pieces. It's great fun. Let's head to the village first, though, I want to see it from up close.'

Plodding through sand the village is much farther away than in a carriage with swift horses, but after ten minutes they reach the much broader beach, and the village alongside with it. They follow the beach to where it ends abruptly, the rise of the land behind it much steeper and protected from the sea with a stone rampart. And here Elizabeth finds out what Fitzwilliam meant with the smell of the sea, for mingled with the fresh, tangy breeze are some less pleasant odours, most notably those of dead fish and rotten garbage. Against the stonework the restless waves carry a load of dark green seaweed, whitish-yellow scum, vegetable peelings and undefinable muck. It looks rather gross and smells worse. Her beloved laughs at her expression of disgust and points towards the path running right on top of the rampart and the houses just behind it.

'They probably chuck their garbage and worse into the sea, and the tides first remove it, then deliver it right back to their doorstep. But I must admit this place smells less than some harbours I've been to, I suppose because there aren't that many people living here.'

It's worse in other sea-towns? Then Elizabeth doesn't know whether she wants to visit any of those!

They walk through the village, it's not that large so it doesn't take much time, then back towards their lodgings across the beach, the strip that the sea has just abandoned indeed littered with interesting finds. Some of the same muck they saw afloat, but also shells and driftwood, and in the pools left in the lee of some stray rocks they find little sea creatures, mainly crabs.

Elizabeth loves it here, and she can see her beloved relishing her child-like enthusiasm for the beach and the sea. Tomorrow she will need to see to Lydia, and poor Fitzwilliam will need to be nice to a lot of people including the hated George Wickham, but tonight they are truly on a holiday.

Darcy will thank Lydia Wickham twice for convincing her sister to come and see her. The first time for allowing them the chance to be by themselves again after months of constant company. And now, for bringing them here, where he has fallen in love all over again with his precious Elizabeth. Watching her picking up shells and poring over their delicate shapes and colours, lifting a little crab from a tidal pool and studying its tiny pincers and goggly eyes, hitching up her skirts to jump another pool, or skipping from rock to rock, he can feel his heart burst. This is what he always needed, a beloved companion to show him how to enjoy the smaller things in life, she is so good at just being alive! And she brings out the best in him, soon he is joining her quest for new discoveries, until she pokes him in his side then runs away as fast as her sturdy boots can carry her.

His coat muffles most of the poke, taking the effect of tickling out of it, and he manages to chase her straight away. She is fast, but she does want to be caught, and soon he has her and lifts her up against his chest, kissing her with all the love he feels for his lively little wife. A kiss like that turns into passion instantly, but it's nearly time for dinner, they will have to wait a bit to follow their feelings.

The look of love in her eyes causes his heart to skip a few beats, and she caresses his face and hair, saying, 'If Simon could see you like this he would be appalled. Your hair is everywhere.'

'I'm sure Simon would be very pleased to see me relaxed and supremely happy, my love. But then he would fetch a comb and get it back into disorder. You may try to take his place if you feel I need to look more dignified, but for my part I don't care what my hair looks like. I care about you, and only you.'

They kiss again, then reluctantly leave the beach to head back to their guesthouse, where they refrain from dressing for dinner. There is no time, and this is a totally different world, most of the other guests are way too busy to change their dress several times a day. Despite sharing the dining-room with several other guests, all men, all sitting at the same large table discussing business matters, dinner is very romantic. They have their own table and they have a lovely view of the sea. The food is fine, and it's very easy to just be a young couple very much in love.

When Eric suggests he skip his meetings with his music-loving friends until Elizabeth and Darcy have returned, Georgiana is glad he considers her, but, 'There's no need, Eric. Before Fitzwilliam married I was by myself most of the time, I have no need for constant companionship. As long as I have my piano I will never be lonely. You just go and have them praise you, and tell me what they said about my performance when you are back. I insist, Eric, I'm not frail or simple minded. Go to your friends, and I'll read a book, or play with my friend Buntebart.'

Well, he cannot stay in now, it'd be an insult to his fiancée, so he kisses her goodbye and leaves.

But as it turns out, Georgiana will not have much time to practise during Eric's absence, for Anne is at home, as is Frederick. They are both in the drawing-room when Georgiana enters, and since she hasn't had the time to ask Frederick how the wedding was, she does so now.

'Do you really want to know, Georgiana?' he returns the question, and actually, she does.

'I've known Caroline Bingley for a very long time, Frederick, she was always there. I'd like to know that she's not too unhappy.'

Frederick looks faintly guilty, good, she stuck up for him but not exactly because she agreed with him, or even with the harsh things she said about Caroline. That was just because she felt something awful was going to happen if she didn't point out to Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth that they didn't even like Caroline Bingley.

'I admit I went too far in my meddling, I see that now. But it's done, and I hope for the best. The bride looked spectacular, and the groom as much so. She was as mean as ever, about Elizabeth, still pretending Darcy is her victim. Everyone got staggeringly drunk, except for myself, Lascelles, Bingley and Jane and Kitty, of course. And old Mrs Grenfell, who was only mildly tipsy, which was a miracle since she was usually drunk before dinner. Then the next day, the bride looked smug and the groom vaguely disappointed, though that may have been my prejudice. Anyway, she'll learn, he has plenty to teach her, and she'll keep an eye on him and make over his house and garden. We'll see them in London next season, better lock up all the virgins.'

He doesn't seem to be as protective of his friends anymore, something must have happened to him after nearly falling out with Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam.

'Simon gave me an earful on top of all else,' he confesses. He must have read her mind again. Anne of course has no idea what they are talking about, so they explain together.

'You told me a few things about your college friends, Frederick, but I didn't know you were still seeing them.'

'I was, but I'm not anymore. Bingley, Lascelles and myself decided independently from each other we have outgrown the friendship. It's time to settle. I never got to party anyway, didn't like the girls, couldn't drink spirits, if they knew about me and Simon they'd kill me. I was more their father than anything else.'

'It happens sometimes. Suddenly you realise you're too old for certain company.'

Her cousin seems really sad all of a sudden, has she had a falling out with her friends?

'You mean those cute girls, Anne? They do seem rather flighty. Is that why you came to live with us, did you quarrel?'

She shakes her head, 'No, we're still friends, it's just like Frederick said, I've outgrown the friendship. I still like them, and I don't mind hanging out with them, but they have other interests than I. I feel ages old when I'm around them.'

'You are much smarter than I, Anne, it took me ten years to realise I had outgrown my friends, you found out in a week.'

'Well, you can't be smart at everything, Frederick,' Georgiana observes, noticing that Anne has become really close to their friend, she is very much at ease touching his arm lightly to support him in what truly seems to be a difficult moment. But why she seemed to be a little sad for a moment is still a mystery, and since Anne has a right to her privacy, that will probably remain just so.

Frederick laughs and offers, 'You're so right, Georgiana, but I cannot like finding that out about myself.'

They talk a little more, Georgiana very aware of things going on between Anne and Frederick, though not romantically, but they do not exclude her. On the contrary, she learns a lot more about her cousin and her friend, and when Eric returns she hasn't even had time to miss him. She can see straight away he has some news, and he takes just enough time to kiss her before he tells them.

'Goodfellow had a very exciting visitor for me today, my love! Unbeknownst to me, Mr Clementi was at the Renaissance lecture, the man who builds those pianos! Goodfellow had invited him on a whim, not really expecting him to turn up, he is a very busy man. But he did, and he loved my interpretation of the Renaissance music. He was so kind and we talked and talked. He offered to help me out with lessons, he loves teaching and would have taken me on before, but Mr Zumpe would not have wanted me to go to him for lessons because they are competitors building pianos. Of course he plays and composes in a different style from where I'm going, but that doesn't matter, any technical support will help me get ahead. He is coming here tomorrow, he wants to hear me play my concerto on my Zumpe, and then we'll go there the next time to use one of his pianos.'

That is just awesome! Eric so deserves to take the next step, and she is certain Fitzwilliam will be prepared to sponsor the cost of such a tutor. They always assumed Mr Clementi would refuse to teach Eric, much to their disappointment, for he has many contacts all over Europe and many of his students reach incredible heights of proficiency.

'Congratulations, Eric,' Frederick says, eyes shining. 'This will be your big break, I'm sure.'

Such good luck, lessons on the level Eric needs, and right here in London. She is certain she will not sleep a wink that night.

The next day is exciting for Anne, too, for the day of the outing to Fitzwilliam's camp has arrived. Dora is teasing Anne's long blond hair into a wealth of little ringlets.

'You don't think it's too much trouble, Miss, for an outing with mere officers? We wouldn't want you to look overdressed, but I so wanted to try this technique.'

But Anne wants to look her best today, and she is trying not to admit to herself that is not for the officers' benefit. Fortunately, Frederick has been invited to attend, which means Anne will have his broad shoulder to lean on if things get painful. For today she will not be able to avoid Nick; however unconventional, he serves his young ladies as their chaperone and he will be part of their group the entire night.

'I think you are doing a great job, Dora. I'm sorry there is no other lady's maid here, it must be a bit boring for you after having Felicity around all the time.'

Putting the finishing touches on Anne's hair, Dora chats easily enough, 'I do miss Felicity, Miss, being so afraid together did give us a certain bond. But in a few weeks Mrs Darcy's maid will be back, and Simon is terrific company. He knows a lot about ladies' fashion, Miss, did you know he does Miss Darcy's toilette until Fanny returns? Actually, he told me how to make these little ringlets. If Fowler hadn't told us it was a bad idea to date within a household, I'd fall in love with Simon, he's so handsome. Mr Darcy doesn't mind his servants dating, for Fanny is going to marry his driver.'

Brave Bob, with the stunning maid. Better discourage Dora from trying to follow their example.

'I think Nick is a very sensible man, Dora, and what he says is wise. One cannot compare a fellow like Brave Bob to a handsome valet like Simon. Nor a charmer like Nick. Bob will stick to Fanny like a tick on a sheep. Those other two are likely to trade sweethearts like a shepherd trades sheep. Far more chance of awkward situations developing.'

Like Anne will have today. And awkward doesn't describe what she will be feeling when she sees Nick again. Agony is more likely. Heartbreak at the very least. But Anne has her will, and living in this wonderful household with people who encourage her in everything has primed it even further. Uncle Spencer's note that her fortune is secure and he has bullied his sister into refraining from meddling with her inheritance has helped, too. Today she will use her will to refrain from showing the world how much parting with Nick has hurt her. She will not avoid him, he has always treated her fairly and she still loves him dearly, she is in fact very eager to know how he is faring. But no-one will know how her heart throbs and how her throat burns when she sees that burly shape with his charming ways and his kind brown eyes. Well, except Frederick. He'll hold her and tell her Nick loves her dearly and all will be fine. She wants to believe that, but the holding part really is enough to make it better until the next time she sees Nick.

'You are very smart, Miss, and Fowler is, too, so I guess I'll just be friends with Simon and wait for my own Brave Bob to show up. Brave Bob! I'll always think of him that way from now on, I never realised a driver must be a brave man.'

'And very decided, Dora,' Anne teases, 'those four horses all have a mind of their own, and they each weigh more than four times what a man does. Drivers almost have to be a little bossy.'

'I don't mind, Miss,' says the girl dreamingly, 'I kind of like my men a little bossy. Like Fowler. Your Mr Manners can be bossy, too, I've heard.'

Dora, of course, knows there is something going on between Frederick and Anne, though she has not asked. But it can't hurt to tell her some things.

'Isn't he, Dora? You may as well know that he has proposed marriage to me, Dora. We're just getting to know each other before I decide. But I'd like that to stay between you and me until we know for certain.'

Dora is very serious, this will be a good test for her. If she manages not to tell this huge bit of news to anyone, Anne will keep her until the girl wants to move on herself.

'Mr Manners! He's old, and not as handsome as Mr Darcy or Mr Fielding, but he is very much admired by everyone, Miss. They say he knows the King personally. And still he is nice, and so very respectful to you.'

But now it's time to finish up her dress, or they will have to hurry. Can't leave poor Fitzwilliam by himself with a gaggle of adolescent girls. Of course he'll have Nick to help him.

Anne can feel herself blush, and when she looks in the mirror to check Dora's work she is stunned. What did Mr Blackwood say? That she'd soon be so beautiful she'd turn up her nose at everyone except a Royal? Well, that time is close. She must be approaching her ideal weight, for her boundless appetite has fallen off. No longer does she need support or rest after a long walk, and she is thinking of taking up another form of exercise, riding will be a bit difficult in town, but maybe fencing. Frederick will know. He is indeed waiting for her in the hall, and shows the proper appreciation for Dora's exertions.

'All this for a mere tour of an army camp? Miss de Bourgh, you have to stop growing more beautiful by the day, or I will have to retract my offer to you: I cannot marry the most beautiful woman in the world, my own failings in that direction would become too pronounced. The world would scorn me for taking its most coveted prize.'

'Oh, hogwash, Frederick. You don't mind at all, as long as I have the wits to help you play your games. Though attracting too much attention may foil that as well...maybe I should let Dora mess up my hair or paint a few moles in my face. Now what kind of physical exercise would you advise me to take up? I'm starting to feel a need to really exert myself. Riding, or fencing?'

'If you want to be married to a gentleman, riding. It's not even considered exercise, but more like a survival mechanism: ride or be left behind most of the day. But it's difficult to teach in the middle of the city, though Elizabeth's Daisy must be getting bored in the stables. We could make a start I suppose. No wait! I'll find you a riding school! The city-folk riding there will be boring, but the staff... Dozens of handsome young men, sensitive to their high-strung charges, but still firm in their handling of noble, temperamental creatures.'

He is enjoying himself hugely, he probably wouldn't mind checking out those stable boys himself.

'And fencing halls, of course the instructor is a dominant man in his fifties, too old for you, but his charges will be brash young men of good fortune. No, too much competition for me, better not go there. Riding it is!'

He is funny, Anne's apprehension lessens noticeably. The camp is outside town of course, and they have arranged to meet the other party, cramped together in Mr Blackwood's carriage as usual, at their mansion. There are no servants outside the carriage, but she knows Nick will be there. He's probably still inside the house, making some last-minute arrangements for the girls. A knock on the window behind her has her turning towards it, and there he is, smiling broadly. He opens the door and addresses Frederick respectfully but jovially, 'Good day, Mr Manners! Mr Blackwood is joining us at the request of Colonel Compton, and I noticed him looking a bit daunted at the prospect of sharing a carriage with four chatting girls. It's not that far, but they can be a bit maddening. May I offer him a seat in your carriage, to save his mental faculties?'

Frederick appreciates Nick's easy manners, Anne can see that even though she's rather overcome by the sight of her former lover.

'You certainly may, Fowler. But it won't be very entertaining for poor Miss de Bourgh to be stuck in a carriage with two old men talking politics and business. Can you by any chance fit her in with your charges? She doesn't take up too much space.'

As if unaware of her presence until now, Nick turns around, then stares at her open mouthed. What is it, she hasn't grown horns, has she? Aware of the rudeness of his stare, Nick closes his mouth and swallows hugely.

'Miss de Bourgh, I'm sorry, that was rude. But you look like a princess, I was just stunned for a moment. Please forgive me.'

Anne wants to laugh and cry at the same time. So he noticed. But most of all she wants him to take her to his little hide-out, or anywhere but here, and make love to her, give her those little kisses, and some larger ones as well. Look at her with those smouldering brown eyes. What does Frederick think he's doing? Murder her with shame and unrequited love? She can't even refuse, that would hurt Nick, despite his confidence.

Her voice obeys her, barely, as she manages a reply, 'Thank you Nick. For the compliment. You look very well yourself. I think Frederick wants me to ride with the girls, and it's their outing after all. If you don't mind.'

'I'm sure they will be glad to have you, Miss. They have missed you, you know.' His unspoken 'And I have, too,' makes her heart skip a beat. As does his hand on hers, assisting her out of the carriage. Frederick is pleased, another one of his schemes, but this one is hurting her.

Then her iron will asserts itself again, and before they reach the other carriage she has settled her feelings to a mere interest in how he is doing. The exchange of passengers is made, Mr Blackwood's relief obvious, and thus Anne spends the trip to the army camp telling her friends how life is at Mr Darcy's house, in Nick's hearing.

'Imagine getting piano lessons from Mr Fielding,' one of the girls sighs enviously.

'I'm doing it right now,' Nick remarks, a lot less deferentially than he used to be towards his charges, knowing he's his master's favourite has given him a little more confidence, 'and I guess it may be less pleasant than you might think, Miss Maria. He strikes me as a man obsessed.'

'You are so right, Nick!' Anne is pleased to find him as perceptive as he used to be. Well, it's been less than a week, how much can a man change in such a short time? 'He is quite a demanding teacher. But he means well, and Miss Darcy does call him to order every so often and then he makes a beautiful apology. Did you know he can sing like an angel?'

The girls nearly swoon, but Nick, obviously, is rather impervious to Mr Fielding's charms.

'I can see you're happy, Miss de Bourgh, and I'm glad of it. It seems we have all been missing you a lot more than you've missed us.'

It's true. Anne has only missed Nick, horribly, but she has dismissed the pain and resumed her life. Certainly Frederick, Simon, Georgiana and Eric are better company than these flighty girls. She would not return to their house for any amount, she'd rather take Nick with her. But he looks just fine, he has probably forgotten all about her already, his bed warmed by some experienced lady of means.

'I'm certainly going to enjoy your company today, we'll have such a good time at the camp. All these younger sons waiting to dance with us. But Nick, how have you been? When I left you were still abed, are your ribs healed? Your eyes look much better anyway.'

He bends towards her, if only he were to kiss her right now, she can smell a whiff of his tantalizing scent, but he merely points at his face and says, half ashamed, half laughing, 'They wouldn't let me come unless I let them powder the bruises. Said soldiers would scorn me for getting beaten.'

Before Anne can help it her hand is stroking that once-blemished cheek, now largely healed, she can indeed see some green and yellow spots beneath a layer of powder. He leans into her touch, and offers her his most bedazzling smile. 'Can you see it from your seat? I tried to tell them soldiers scorn a man wearing powder more than anything, but they wouldn't budge. And I wanted to come, to see you.'

She takes hold of his chin with her hand, to hide her loving gesture beneath some bluster, and turns his face left and right, peering at him. 'I didn't see a thing until you told me. It's hard to spot even knowing. I think you're safe from the soldiers. And you know my cousin is their colonel, they have to obey him. How are your ribs, did they powder those, too?'

His charming remarks are so confusing, but they do prove he is a ladies' man to the core. Does he remember their night together with any special feelings? He said it was the best night of his life, but he probably tells all the women he sleeps with exactly the same.

He shakes his head ruefully.

'Alas, it takes much longer for ribs to heal. But I've been taking it slowly, and they hurt a little less every day.'

She suddenly remembers his powerful chest heaving for breath, just after their lovemaking. But no! This is not the time. She'll remember that tonight, in her lonely bed. Now, she is going to entertain these girls, they have taught her how to enjoy life and she is going to repay them by offering them a chance to meet eligible men. And then she will see them from time to time, but she has grown beyond their company and will not be staying over with them anymore. That does sound arrogant, even to herself. What if she's just afraid to witness Nick taking one of his conquests across the hall and through that little door to the attic?

'So, do you all like officers, girls?' she asks lightly.

And with the gushing over red coats, polished buttons, glossy boots and noble, clean-cut faces they manage to fill the rest of the drive to the camp. Nick has fallen silent, no-one expects him to contribute to a discussion on the merits of soldiers as lovers and husbands. It almost seems as if she loves him, wants to touch him. But it's no use, they can never be together and she knows it, is moving on. He was a fool to want to see her again, there is only hurt in store for him. And for her, if she indeed loves him. She is so beautiful it hurts inside, to think she let him touch her, let him take her virginity, and then he bungled it with those damned broken ribs. He'd so love to have a chance to redeem himself, but it is a recipe for disaster to try to get it. Better a clean break than a festering wound, for both of them. He will avoid her after this, it'll be easy enough, she's obviously moving in better circles now than his young mistresses.

Hanging back while the young officers introduce themselves, Nick finds himself joined by Mr Manners. Even though he knows Miss Anne will probably marry him, a philanderer according to her, he cannot help liking the man. A lot of people have told Nick at different times that he has that same quality, even though Wellesley seemed to disagree. Maybe the quality goes with the vice.

'Watching these introductions, Fowler, don't you get the impression that Colonel Compton has low self-esteem?'

The colonel looks confident enough, greeting his cousin with almost the same reaction Nick evidenced: open-mouthed stupefaction. But Nick doesn't believe Mr Manners refers to the man's posture, one doesn't become a colonel of the British army without being confident and competent. It has to be more subtle. But the gentleman does not explain, he is waiting for Nick to observe the scene and draw his own conclusions. Nick feels as if he is being tested, and is surprised by his own determination to pass this unknown test.

The officers Colonel Compton has chosen for the tour are all young, reasonably handsome, and they seem very polite and well-behaved. Of course they are from excellent families, marriage material for girls like Miss Sophie and Miss Angelina. He must have had close to a hundred to choose from, so why did he pick these five? That's it! Either the colonel expects to be called away on duty, or he has arranged a young and handsome gentleman to partner each girl because he thinks he does not qualify as marriage material for these young ladies himself. That does signify low self-esteem.

But what if the colonel is engaged? And... Nick trusts Mr Manners' kindness enough to dare offer his conclusion in as cryptic a shape as the latter framed his question.

'In that case, Mr Manners, you may consider yourself insulted, for there is no girl left for you either.'

A hearty slap on the back causes him to cringe in pain. He's still covered in healing bruises and his ribs may be broken in front, they're attached to the back rather firmly! Two large hands now hold him up front and back, very gently, keeping Nick from making a spectacle of himself by buckling.

'I'm ever so sorry, Fowler, I totally forgot you've been seriously injured so recently! You look very hale, but I guess that's our build, broad and strong. Are you all right?'

Nick is heaving for breath, it's so damned inconvenient, broken ribs. They don't show, but they sap a man's strength for weeks. Mr Manners ignores his moment of weakness, apparently that's a universal trait, an unspoken agreement between men of all classes. If a fellow is suffering, give him time to recover and don't draw attention to his weakness. Fill up the man's involuntary silence with small-talk.

'I meant that as a complimentary slap, Fowler, not a brutal correction. I hope you got that, or you'd find me cruel even without the extra hurt from your previous injuries. I was raised, well, actually we raised ourselves, in a clique of gently-bred boys sent to school at an early age. We were a rough lot. A cuff to the head was a friendly greeting and a punch in the kidneys a sign of affection. Somehow that kind of education tends to rear up when one is really impressed by another chap. Do you think I'm right?

Do you think the colonel expects neither of us to have a chance at one of these ladies?'

Does he know Miss Anne told Nick about his proposal? It doesn't matter, he's going to use the time he cannot speak well by thinking up the most diplomatic reply of his life, proving this gentleman he can hold his tongue, and that Nick may be just a servant, but one who was raised by a mother and father who taught him the value of empathy.

'Thank you sir. Not for clouting me, but for considering me worth clouting, and for covering for me. It's the broken ribs, you see. They take about a quarter of my strength but only if nothing untoward happens. Since you ask, Mr Manners, I think the colonel may have chosen five men to allow the girls some choice, including the two of you as potential partners. But he may consider the girls beneath your notice, for these girls aren't poor, but they're not rich either, nor are they of the best families. Or much educated. Not good enough for a man of your class and connections. Excepting Miss de Bourgh of course, but she is in a way the hostess, not here to find a partner herself. Still, she does need an officer to chat and dance with.

As for himself, he may expect to be called away since he's leader of this camp, he may already be engaged, or he may indeed consider himself too old or too plain to interest young girls like these. Personally, I think he just isn't interested in them, he seems totally unaffected by any of these pretty eligible girls. And he's so kind and so concerned with Miss de Bourgh, it's as if he has had some kind of tragedy in his life.'

'Damn but you're good!'

Mr Manners also seems less careful with his language than the gentlemen Nick knows.

'It's true, you know, he had a preference for a very superior young lady, but they were both penniless, and eventually she married someone else. Only then did he realise what he had lost, he never even tried to win her, he just let her go. Now I guess he compares every woman to the one he still loves, and only Miss de Bourgh can measure up. He is the one who saved her from living death.'

Poor Miss Anne, dying by inches because her mother wanted to fornicate.

'With the risk of insulting you, sir, why are you telling me this? I'm just a servant.'

'Despite clobbering you half to death, Fowler, I like you. I'm not as attached to rank as some of my class, I've found I prefer intelligent company. I had high hopes of your capacities in that area and you're no disappointment, on the contrary, I like you even more now. Maybe we can hang out a little today, even the score for the young officers so to speak.'

Miss Anne must have told Mr Manners about him, and some good things, apparently. That is gratifying. She doesn't seem to reproach him for anything, which is even better. He wouldn't want to have this man and her cousin running to her rescue. But still he wonders why there is an officer for Miss Anne, she's with Mr Manners, isn't she?

'I'm afraid there is one officer too many at the very least, sir.'

See what he makes of that.

'You mean for Miss de Bourgh? You are so right, I know for a fact that her affections are engaged, though she is not ready to acknowledge it, yet. But that is no problem, there is plenty of time, she will discover where her heart lies eventually. A little bit of hardship never killed anyone.'

That's what you get when you try to be smart. You hear something you don't want to. Is Mr Manners referring to himself? Does he think Miss Anne loves him? Does he think he will conquer her eventually?

'I wouldn't dare presume to know Miss Anne's heart, sir. No, I'm referring to the colonel. He has drawn the innocent eye of one of my charges, Miss Sophie. Miss Anne was there when she bemoaned being unable to catch his attention. Miss Sophie is sweet, smarter than she looks and very faithful. A man could do worse than a girl like her. Also she has ten thousand pounds to her name.'

'If she is sweet and innocent, she's probably in love with you first of all. Don't you fancy an independence?'

'Now, sir, I know my place. I grew up in the streets of London, not in poverty, but there were no riches either. I'm not a suitable husband for a gentle young lady.'

'But she loves you?'

'Like she adores Mr Fielding, yes. But I'm not into girls, I prefer the company of women. Miss Sophie is like a sister to me.'

'Too bad, for from what Mr Blackwood told me in the carriage just now he would consider you as a son-in-law. He thinks very highly of you.'

Nick is stunned.

'You cannot be serious. This is one of your college-kids jokes.'

'Somehow, Fowler, I feel as if I'm done with college humour forever, and no loss. I would never presume to draw you out on false pretences. Mr Blackwood really thinks you are good enough to marry one of his daughters. He'd expect you to come work in his business, as a partner, not a clerk or guard. It's a great chance to improve yourself.'

It wouldn't have made the slightest difference if he had known.

'It's just not possible. Miss Sophie is like a sister to me, I could never love her like that. Even before...' That thought is just too painful to utter, even if he was free to do so in his current company. This man is way too smart for Nick.

'It's good to know, though. He never even hinted it to me, though I know Mr Blackwood likes me.'

Mr Manners nods, as if he expected as much.

'Well then, we'd better do our best to have the colonel notice the young lady, so she can see what her chances are. What did you advise her to do?'

Good, he didn't notice Nick's slip of the tongue.

'I told her not to try and look smart, but to be sweet because that what she is. And to sing for him.'

'Better still, his standard for smart is out of reach. Advise her not to sing any folk-songs either. Anything else, great idea, but no folk-songs, not even if he asks. Trust me, I know him rather well, as far as any man can ever get to know another man well. And Fowler...don't despair. There are more ways than one to skin a cat.

Now let's follow our company and see how His Majesty takes care of his troops.'

So he did hear? And he knows who spoiled Nick for other women, all other women? Yet he thinks there is hope? Well that is easy for a rich gentleman to say, but Nick knows how the real world works.