Patrick O'Brian - H.M.S. Surprise

‘It is so humiliating to be suspected,’ she said, ‘I know half the servants are set to watch. If I did not stand up for myself there would be a troop of black eunuchs, great flabby things, in no time at all. That is why I have my own people. . . Oh, I get so tired of these scenes. Travelling is the only thing that is even half bearable - going somewhere else. It is an impossible situation for a woman with any spirit. Do you remember what I told you, oh a great while ago, about married men being the enemy? Here I am, delivered up to the enemy, bound hand and foot. Of course it is my own fault; you do not have to tell me of it. But that does not make the life any less wretched. Living large is very well, and certainly I love a rope of pearls as much as any woman: but give me even a grisly damp cold English cottage.’

‘I am sorry,’ said he in a harsh formal voice, ‘that you should not be happy. But at least it does give me some slightly greater confidence, a perceptibly greater justification, in making my proposal.’

‘Are you going to take me into keeping too, Stephen?’ she asked, with a smile.

‘No,’ he said, endeavouring to imitate her. He privately crossed his bosom, and then, speaking somewhat at random in his agitation, he went on, ‘I have never made a woman an offer of marriage - am ignorant of - the accepted forms. I am sorry for my ignorance. But I beg you will have the goodness, the very great goodness, to marry me.’ As she did not reply, he added, ‘It would oblige me extremely, Diana.’

‘Why, Stephen,’ she said at last, still gazing at him with candid wonder. ‘Upon my word and honour, you astonish me. I can hardly speak. It was the kindest thing you could possibly have said to mc. But your friendship, your affection, is leading you away; it is your dear good heart full of pity for a friend that. .

‘No, no, no,’ he cried passionately. ‘This is a deliberate, long-​meditated statement, conceived a great while since, and matured over twelve thousand miles and more. I am painfully aware,’ he said, clasping and unclasping his hands behind his back, ‘that my appearance does not serve me; that there are objections to my person, my birth, and my religion; and that my fortune is nothing in comparison with that of a wealthy man. But I am not the penniless nonentity I was when we first met; I can offer an honourable if not a brilliant marriage; and at the very lowest I can provide my wife - my widow, my relict - with a decent competence, an assured future.’

‘Stephen darling, you honour me beyond what I can express; you are the dearest man I know - by so very far my best friend. But you know I often speak like a fool when I am angry - fly out farther than I mean -I am an ill-​tempered woman, I am afraid. I am deeply engaged to Canning; he has been extremely good to me And what kind of a wife could I make for you? You should have married Sophie: she would have been content with very little, and you would never have been ashamed of her. Ashamed - think what I have been - think what I am now: and London is not far from Bombay; the gossip is the same in both. And having had this kind of life again, could I ever. . . Stephen, are you unwell?’

‘I was going to say, there is Barcelona, Paris, even Dublin.’

‘You are certainly unwell; you look ghastly. Take off your coat. Sit in your shirt and breeches:’

‘Sure I have never felt the heat so much.’ He threw off his coat and neckcloth.

‘Drink some iced water, and put your head down. Dear Stephen, I wish I could make you happy. Pray do not look so wretched. Perhaps, you know, if it were to come to a

break. .

‘And then again,’ he said, as though ten silent minutes had not passed, ‘it is not a question of very little, by European standards. I have about ten thousand pounds, I believe; an estate worth as much again, and capable of improvement. There is also my pay,’ he added. ‘Two or three hundred a year.’

‘And a castle in Spain,’ said Diana, smiling. ‘Lie still, and tell me about your castle in Spain. I know it has a marble bath.’

‘Aye, and a marble roof, where it has a roof at all. But I must not practise on you, Villiers; it is not what you have here. Six, no five habitable rooms; and most of them are inhabited by merino sheep. It is a romantic ruin, surrounded by romantic mountains; but romance does not keep the rain away.’

He had made his attempt, delivered his charge, and it had failed: now his heart beat quietly again. He was speaking in a companionable, detached voice about merino sheep, the peculiarities of a Spanish rent-​roll, the inconveniences of war, a sailor’s chances of prize-​money, and he was reaching for his neckcloth when she interrupted him and said, ‘Stephen, what you said to me turned my head about so much I hardly know what I answered. I must think. Let us talk about it again in Calcutta. I must have months and months to think. Lord, how pale you have gone again. Come, put on a light gown and we will sit in the court for the fresh air: these lamps are intolerable indoors.’

‘No, no. Do not move.’

‘Why? Because it is Canning’s gown? Because he is my lover? Because he is a Jew?’

‘Stuff. I have the greatest esteem for Jews, so far as anyone can speak of a heterogenous great body of men in such a meaningless, illiberal way.’

Canning walked into the room, a big man who moved lightly on his feet. ‘How long has he been outside?’ thought Stephen; and Diana said, ‘Canning, Dr Maturin finds the heat a little much. I am trying to persuade him to put on a gown and to sit by the fountain in the peacock court. You remember Dr Maturin?’

‘Perfectly, and I am very happy to see him. But my dear sir, I am concerned that you should not be entirely well. It is indeed a most oppressive day. Pray give me your arm, and we will take the air. I could do with it myself. Diana, will you call for a gown, or perhaps a shawl?’

‘How much does he know about me?’ wondered Stephen as they sat there in the relative coolness, Canning and Diana talking quietly of his journey, the Nizam, and a Mr Norton. It seemed that Mr Norton’s best friend had run away into the Nizam’s dominions with Mrs Norton.

‘He gives nothing away,’ Stephen reflected. ‘But that in itself is significant: and he has not asked after Jack, which is more so. His bluff, manly air cannot be assumed, however; it is very like Jack’s and it certainly represents a great deal of the man; but I also perceive a gleam of hidden intelligence. How I wish he had Lady Forbes’s gift of displaying his secret mind. Mr Norton, the ornithologist?’ he asked aloud.

‘No,’ said Diana, ‘he is interested in birds.’

‘So interested,’ said Canning, ‘that he went off as far as Bikanir for a kind of sand-​grouse, and when he came back Mrs Norton had flown. I do not think it a pretty thing, to seduce a friend’s wife.’

‘I am sure you are right,’ said Stephen. ‘But is it indeed a possible offence? A booby girl may be led away by a wicked fellow, to be sure, but a woman, a married woman? For my part I do not believe that any marriage was ever yet broken by an outside force. Let us suppose that Mrs Norton is confronted with a choice between claret and port; she decides that she does not care for claret but that she does care for port. From that moment she is wedded to her muddy brew; and it is impertinent to assure her that claret is her true delight. Nor does it seem to me that any great blame attaches to the bottle she prefers.’

‘If only there were a breath of air from the sea,’ said Canning, with his deep belly-​laugh, ‘I should tear your analogy limb from limb: besides, you would never have ventured upon it - a foul bottom, if ever there was one. But my point is that Norton was Morton’s particular friend: Norton took him into his house, and he made his way into Norton’s bed.’