Patrick O'Brian - Blue at the Mizzen

He reflected and said, 'I have very rarely encountered a case in which the circumstances were so extreme as yours: but I do know how often the sorrow and woe that is in marriage arise from want of elementary physical understanding, to say nothing of ineptitude, selfishness, gross ignorance...'

'And a kind of hostility, resentment..."

'Agreed, agreed. Please wipe my foolish, self-seeking words from your memory as far as ever you can. But do let us go on exchanging notes on Adanson. There are the lanterns coming down through the trees.'

'Oh dear,' she said, taking his hand. 'I am afraid I have wounded you, a man I esteem more than any who have ever addressed me. Stephen, I am so sorry...'

The eastern nightjar had begun its song again, its churr, apparently without ever drawing breath; and by way of distracting his mind from the sorrow, Stephen counted the pulse of his heart: he had reached seventy-five before the bird stopped. The lights were on the edge of the wood, and he was aware that Christine had been weeping.

On the way up she took his arm, and in the house they sat down to a curiously delicious supper based on African vegetables that he did not know, and eggs, with a tolerable white wine; then came the almond pudding, followed by a capital madeira.

Pushing the plates aside she showed him the astonishing skin of Caprimulgus longipennis and told him about the power of those particular feathers as ju-ju in local belief. 'The longer I live in Africa,' she observed when they were drinking the wretched coffee and some excellent rum, 'and the more I know about Africans, the nearer I come to a sort of diffused pantheism.'

Reverting to this a little later, when her spirits had revived somewhat, she said, 'I know my divinity angers missionaries to a quite surprising degree, and upon the whole I do not care for them either, not very much. But sometimes a missionary is also a naturalist, and if he is far away in the bush he may have wonderful opportunities. I am sure you have heard of the Congo peacock?'

'Indeed, I have often heard tell of him; but I have never known him described by a credible witness.'

'Well,' she said, feeling in a drawer, 'I do not say that this is proof positive,' - holding out a green feather - 'but it was given me by a very old - Franciscan, I think, a Catholic in any event - who died here before he could take ship, and who told me without the least pomp or showing away that he had plucked it from the back of a recently dead peacock in the Congo: I forget the name of the district, but the bird lived in open woodland.'

'Dear me, Christine,' he said, caressing the feather, 'you have amazed and delighted me three times today. The elephantine heron; the wildly eccentric, more than improbable nightjar, and now the fabled Congo peacock, on whose existence I shall now pledge my soul. I am sorry that you do not choose to marry me, but I thoroughly understand your... what shall I say? Disinclination.'

A surprising length of time, of emotional time, had passed between their standing in the hide, the space of his declaration, and the present, with its entirely different context. She smiled, drank a little more rum, patted his knee, and said, 'Tell me, Stephen, if I had accepted your dear, dear proposal, how should you have managed the purely material side of the union? You have spoken of your daughter. How old is she?'

'I am ashamed to say I cannot tell. Quite young, sure: nowhere near puberty.'

'Then again you are engaged with your friend on a distant and I presume important voyage?'

'To be sure,' said Stephen, looking wretchedly from side to side. 'Yet I was not entirely thoughtless. Believe me," he said earnestly, 'I was not entirely selfish. I had a very pretty solution: my idea was that you should go to England, there to stay with Sophie Aubrey, a charming woman and a very old friend, who has two girls and a son, who looks after Brigid, my daughter, and who lives in a large house in Dorset with quantities of friends all round and a most respectable body of servants. And then, it appeared to what I can only diffidently call my mind - in other words the embodiment of my wishes - that I should return from the sea, and that together we should plot the course of our days: England, Ireland, France or Spain, or any combination according to your choice.'

'Dear me, dear me,' she said with a sigh: and hearing the minute voice of Stephen's watch, 'was that a clock somewhere? Can it be twelve?'

He plucked it from his waistcoat. 'Yes, twelve it is, by the ship's exact noon observation of the sun.'

'Oh what a pretty thing. Will it chime again?'

It chimed again, and Stephen asked, 'Do you like it?'

'I think it is perfectly beautiful. Is it what they call a repeater?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'I have never seen one before.' She was clearly fascinated.

He put it back into her hand, showed her the buttons to be pressed, and said, 'There, my dear. It is yours: a very slight acknowledgement of the delights you have given me today.'

'Oh, what nonsense, Stephen dear,' she said, repressing a smile. 'Of course I cannot possibly accept such a present: though I return a hundred thousand thanks for the intention.' She put it gently on the table, stood up, and said, 'Come, it is already late. Let me show you to your room.'

It was a fine large airy place and the window framed the declining moon. She drew the curtain and said, 'I am afraid you brought no night-clothes, Stephen. Should you like one of my gowns?'

'Lord, no, my dear: I am perfectly happy to lie in my skin, like Adam before the fall.'

'Well, good night, Stephen, There is water, and a towel. There is soap. I do hope you will sleep well.'

'Good night, my dear. I shall be up before the sun, since I mean to walk up and over to rejoin my ship; so please forgive me if I take my leave now.'

Long he lay on the flat of his back, head supported by both hands and above all by his sense of the weakening of Christine's absolute resistance; he turned the events of a singularly varied day in his mind; and a great way off two, three and even four different nightjars churred at their various pitches.

In spite of their earlier farewell, Christine joined him for breakfast. 'I am so sorry I grieved you,' she said, looking at him uneasily, after the first civilities.

'I had no notion of your far more grievous reasons,' he replied. 'It was deeply impercipient. But before I go, please let me say that as I see it marriage does not necessarily mean possession; far, far less dominance.'

'Stephen, I would not hurt you for the world. You are going on a long and I hope very fruitful voyage: may I turn the whole thing over in my mind while you are away? And with the blessing I may come round - come back - to thinking and feeling like an ordinary woman. But, my dear,' after a long, long pause, 'you are not to feel in the slightest degree bound: no, not the very least degree." Stephen bowed; and having poured him more coffee she went on hesitantly, 'Did you not say that the Aubreys lived in Dorsetshire? I am going to cousins next month who live near Bridport; and if I can be of any use in carrying letters, either of you have but to command.'

'That would be wonderfully kind. I know that Captain Aubrey has a heap of paper, written small; and I have not done badly. But tell me - though this is a personal question, which I detest - do you find it easy to travel?'

'Lord, yes. I often go back. I may take Jenny, but I can perfectly well go alone: I find that men, particularly seamen, are particularly kind to women on their own; and a single trunk does very well. A big, roomy Portuguese Guineaman touches here next month. She will put me down at the Pool, as usual, and the agents will carry me and my trunk to Grillon's, where I generally stay, and after a day or two of shopping I shall take a post-chaise down: it is as simple as that.'