Carrie Bebris - The Deception At Lyme

“I feel so fortunate to have met you, Mrs. Darcy—and you, too, Miss Darcy. Thank you once more for your assistance. I hope our paths cross again while you are in Lyme.”

Elizabeth hoped so, too.

Elizabeth found that she enjoyed seabathing. Though shockingly brisk upon entry, the water temperature was not unpleasant after one became accustomed to it, and the dipper’s advice to immerse one’s whole self immediately rather than ease in proved sound. The water reached their shoulders, alleviating any modesty concerns Elizabeth had harbored, and the two sisters—though Georgiana was her sister by marriage, Elizabeth loved her like a sister of blood—conversed freely and cheerfully on all manner of subjects, their discourse drifting as unconsciously as the tide.

Boats dotted the waves farther out to sea. Most of them were small fishing vessels, but a larger passenger ship caught Georgiana’s attention.

“Do you think my brother is seriously contemplating a tour abroad for us all?”

“You know your brother—he would not have voiced the possibility aloud unless he were sincerely entertaining it.”

She smiled. “I am simply so delighted by the prospect that I can hardly believe he said it.”

“You are that eager to travel?” Elizabeth was pleased by the prospect herself, but Georgiana’s enthusiasm was palpable.

“I would like to see something of the world beyond Pemberley and London. I have wondered what it might be like to hear Mozart performed in Vienna, or see the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Sir Laurence has traveled a great deal. He has mentioned a few of his trips, and Miss Ashford has shown me some of the gifts he has brought home for her. Did you notice the diamond ear-bobs she wore to the ball?”

“I did. They were lovely.” Elizabeth also noticed how animated Georgiana had become. Journeying abroad seemed a subject that had been in her thoughts for some time.

“Even if I do not travel, however, I am eager for some sort of alteration in my life. I enjoy my musical studies, our visits to London, the society of my friends. I adore my niece. I am blessed with an excellent brother, and you, Elizabeth—you have brought me the happiness of at last having a sister.” She looked at Elizabeth with such genuine affection that Elizabeth would have hugged her were she not expending so much energy simply keeping her head above water as the tide moved toward shore. “But I cannot exist forever in the manner I have been. I need more to occupy my mind and hours.” She looked out toward the sea again. “Whether that is the novelty of travel, or a home of my own of which to be mistress, or something else I have not yet discovered.”

Elizabeth understood. For all that polite society praised an “accomplished” woman, it offered few outlets for one to employ those accomplishments in a meaningful manner. Georgiana was fluent in four languages, but when did she ever have opportunity to use them? As it was, she was fortunate that her father, and in turn, her brother, had valued women’s education enough to encourage her to cultivate her mind as well as her manners. There were many ladies of richer birth with poorer intellects.

On the horizon, a ship of the line sailed east toward Portsmouth, and both could not help but admire the majestic image of a first-rate flagship under full sail.

“Do you think Lieutenant St. Clair will ever captain such a ship?” Georgiana asked.

“He might, in time,” Elizabeth answered. “Though now that the war is ended, I expect that opportunities to distinguish oneself for promotion will be fewer, and captaincies will not become vacant as frequently.”

“I suppose that is both good and bad for naval families. Advancement will be much slower, but there is a greater chance that one’s husband—or father, or cousin—will live to an old age.”

“I have sometimes wondered how the wives of sailors and soldiers bear the long absences and uncertainty,” Elizabeth admitted. “My younger sisters, before they were married, would have said that the uniforms make up for it.” Kitty, now wed to a clergyman, had developed more maturity, but the ever-flighty Lydia likely still held that opinion. Elizabeth hoped for her youngest sister’s sake that something made marriage to her untrustworthy militia officer tolerable.

“I think it takes more than a uniform,” Georgiana said. “Though … Lieutenant St. Clair did look terribly handsome the other night, did he not?”

“He did indeed—second only to your brother, of course. If Darcy had first appeared to me with a gold epaulette, I might have been utterly lost.”

The climb up Broad Street toward their lodgings seemed steeper following their exertions in the sea. Elizabeth and Georgiana paused to catch their breaths before continuing, and found themselves in front of a fossil shop that they had passed numerous times since their arrival in Lyme but had never entered.

“Sir Laurence says that Lyme is becoming as famous for its fossils as for its seabathing,” Georgiana said.

“Indeed?” In the reflection of the shop window, Elizabeth regarded her with an arch look. “What else does Sir Laurence say?”

“That the region’s landslips uncover extraordinary specimens that attract collectors. He owns several himself.”

“Sir Laurence is a fossil collector?”

“Not specifically—he collects all manner of things. He has a great interest in history, and art, and antiquities. He admires Lord Elgin tremendously for having rescued the Parthenon marbles.”

Elizabeth read the esteem in Georgiana’s eyes and doubted they glowed for Lord Elgin. “Does Sir Laurence admire anybody else?” she asked softly.

Georgiana turned away from the shop window to look directly at Elizabeth. “He says he would like to show me his collection one day.”

“And would you like to see it?”

She smiled.

Elizabeth was tempted to ask whether a title enhanced a gentleman’s appearance to the same extent as did an officer’s uniform, but forbore, not wanting to chance Georgiana’s misconstruing her gentle teasing. Whatever feelings about a certain baronet might be developing in Georgiana’s heart, Elizabeth left it to her sister-in-law to confide them to her when and if she chose.

Their tête-à-tête was interrupted by the emergence of one of the shop’s customers, a spectacled man in his middle thirties whose clothing boasted an extraordinary number of pockets. A man whose countenance lit with delight upon recognizing Elizabeth.

“Why, Mrs. Darcy!”

“Professor Randolph!” Elizabeth’s pleasure matched that of her friend; she and Darcy had not seen Julian Randolph in two years. They spent more time at Pemberley than in London, and even when they were in the city, the professor’s work as resident archaeologist of the British Museum often took him away from it.

“And Miss Darcy,” he continued. “Imagine, meeting you here in Lyme. This is the very best of surprises.”

“Indeed, it is,” Elizabeth said, “though I cannot say I would be altogether surprised to meet you anywhere.”

A specialty in New World artifacts—Professor Randolph was American by birth—had earned him the attention of the museum, but a scientific passion that comprehended artifacts of all cultures and eras had taken him around the world. His eclectic knowledge had proved critical in assisting Elizabeth and Darcy in two adventures early in their marriage.