WORTHY BY JULIA WINTER - EXCERPT

 


Excerpt

From a visit to Ramsgate to meet Georgiana Darcy:

 The sands were busy with crowds of visitors, walking and bathing. The bathing wagons, with peculiar canvas projections curving out and down at the rear (which, Cousin Galahad explained, allowed the bathers to enter the sea without outraging modesty and discretion) plied back and forth to the water, pulled by sturdy horses.

“Fascinating!” Elizabeth eyed the contraptions with a touch of envy.

“I have sea-bathed every week since I arrived,” Miss Darcy said. “My doctor thought it would help improve my health. The water is very cold, even on a day like this.”

“I would not like it.” Miss Bingley gave a fastidious shudder.

“I wish we had time to try it.” And Elizabeth sighed for a lost opportunity.

“I have arranged for a sailing trip around the bay for later today, which may mitigate your disappointment.” Mr Darcy pulled his watch from his pocket. “I agreed to meet the boat’s owner at two, leaving us time for a walk here and a light nuncheon at the cottage first.”

“Then do let us walk! I do not wish to miss anything this day.” Elizabeth, hoping Jane would forgive her, singled out their cousin Galahad and tugged him along the shoreline.

The tide was still out, and they walked along the firm, still-damp sands that, in an hour or two, would be underwater again. Elizabeth searched for bounty in the seaweed strewn along the line marking the closest the sea would come to the lands. She enlisted her cousin’s aid, making use of the more capacious pockets with which a gentleman’s clothing was equipped, and filling his with shells and smooth, frosted pebbles of white or green or amber. Glass, perhaps?

“Yes. Fragments of glass worn to smoothness by the sea,” Cousin Galahad said, when she asked. “Perhaps from a shipwreck, or from some drunken sailor casting his rum bottle overboard.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Well, they are pretty, however they fell into the waves.” She glanced around. They were a little distant from the others, who were engaged in trying to make out which hedge visible on the cliffs above belonged to the house inhabited by Miss Darcy, an enterprise involving much pointing and walking backwards to peer upwards while shading their eyes with their hands. She determined to speak while she had the chance. “I told Miss Darcy that my sisters and I have always wished for a brother. Allowing the use of his pockets would not be the least of his charms.”

He gave her a searching look, studying her eyes and face. No fool he. But then she had never thought him one.

She smiled. “I hope you do not object to me thinking of you as I would my brother if I had one?”

He huffed out a laugh that started in something very like chagrin but ended in genuine amusement. “No, I do not object.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I will gladly carry your shells and glass, cousin, and be a useful brother.”

They had reached an understanding without having to say more. She smiled again. “Thank you! I will try not to exceed the limits of your patience.” She glanced towards the others, who had turned back and were making their way towards the path to the harbour and from there, she assumed, intending to return to the cottage for the promised noon repast. Both Jane and Mr Darcy were looking towards them, and she raised a hand, to reassure them their intentions were understood. “We had better catch up the others before they wonder what we are about.”

She put her hand on the arm he offered, and they walked briskly across the sands in the wake of the rest of their party.

Cousin Galahad laughed again. “I suspect that when you marry, Lizzy, you will do more than fill your husband’s pockets with shells. You will lead the poor man the merriest of dances!”

“But that is what marriage should be, do you not think? A dance, where both know the steps, love the tune, and can sing it in harmony.” Elizabeth laughed up at him as they toiled up the rough stone stair to the top of the harbour’s east wall at the point it met the cliffs. The road to the cottage was to their right, their companions walking up its slope. Her eye caught by a movement to their left, and she half turned towards the harbour itself, which was fronted by shops and small houses.

Miss Darcy’s companion, Mrs Younge, stepped onto the road from a shop. Behind her, a shadow moved. Stopped. Retreated. The shopkeeper, no doubt, seeing her from his premises.

Mrs Younge, without a glance behind her, dropped a curtsey. “Mr Palmer. Miss Elizabeth. I hope you are enjoying your visit? Ah, I see the rest of Mr Darcy’s party are ahead of us. May I join you, if you are returning to the cottage?”

“We would be delighted.” Cousin Galahad offered his free arm with a flourish. “How are you finding Ramsgate and the cottage, Mrs Younge? Miss Darcy's health appears improved.”

“Oh, she is. I am very pleased by the changes in her.” Mrs Younge’s smile was demure and restrained, as became a young lady’s companion. “I impute it all to Ramsgate, the sea air and regular sea bathing. Our stay here has been to everyone’s great advantage. The companion’s smile broadened. “Miss Darcy will have no cause to repine. I will make certain of it.”

 

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