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Here's a picture of Raffles Hotel!
Chapter One: The Perils Of The Sea
RMS Wellington,The Suez Canal, April, 1900
The dog was stuck in the chimney, and Fitzwilliam Darcy had to get it.
“Darcy! Dear Darcy you must rescue little Cocasse at once!”
He closed his eyes in pain.
“Caroline, how many times have I told you not to let that mongrel of yours loose? I am sick of having to rescue him from everywhere, not to mention the sailors must think I’m an idiot by now.”
Caroline whined, just like her dog, and then she turned her back to him.
“Oh, of course Darcy, how silly of me to ask... I have no right to... Only you and my brother are such friends...”
Good grief, were those tears? He stood up at once, and bowed to her still turned back.
“Now, Miss Bingley, there is no need for that... I’ll go and get it.”
“Oh!” Caroline turned around, and there were no tears anywhere. “Oh, Darcy, I cannot thank you enough...”
She ran towards him, but he was quicker, and out the door before she caught him. There was a loud thump! when her body hit the wall, and had he not been a gentleman, he would have sworn he heard her say...
But he was a gentleman, and she was very possibly his future wife.
He was covered in black grease, and had an audience he didn’t want. And the stupid mutt wouldn’t come out.
Someone knocked on his shoulder. Darcy left the chimney and turned towards the sailor who wanted a word.“Yes?”
“Well, Sir, the Capt’n was just wunderin’ what you were up to?”
Fitzwilliam Darcy straightened. He was not in the habit of explaining himself to strangers of the Lower Classes. In fact, back in England no one would ever have questioned the motives of the fine Gentleman, the Honourable Fitzwillliam Darcy, heir to the throne of... well, heir to Pemberley, which was Grand. Well. Of a Good Size, anyway.
And really very nice when inhabited. Really.A shrill voice interrupted Darcy’s train of thought:
“Do tell the captain, My Good Man, that Mr. Darcy is being a perfect angel trying to rescue my Dear Little Poodle, Cocasse, from your horrid chimney! There’s a good man.”
The clang of a few coppers being poured into a hand.
No dice, though.“Carcass? What’n the doggie got and done t’ earn a name like tha’?”
The sailor sounded quite horrified.
“Not carcass, cocasse! It’s French, it means...”
“Thank you Caroline, I don’t think he has to hear all that. Maybe the Captain has some idea of how to get your dog out of there, I am unsucessfull as usual.”
“The Captain? But Darcy, I thought the sight of you would be enough to make Cocasse come running up that chimney!”
“I really doubt he is that afraid of me, Caroline!”
“Oh! Oh, no, Darcy, I didn’t mean it like that! He loves you, is all!”
“Right, fine, whatever. But he’s still stuck in the chimney.”
“Maybe one of the servants...”
“They’re sailors, not servants, Caroline.”
At which point Caroline Bingley’s eyes were filled with something looking suspiciously like real tears, the poodle started to howl (well, squeak) in the chimney, and a group of three fellow passengers came up to them.
They were a middle - aged couple, and a young woman, very handsome and blonde to boot. Darcy had noticed the Blonde before, but was not introduced. The older woman said:“I know it is none of my business, but isn’t there something the little dog likes to eat? Something smelly, preferably.”
“Smelly?” cried Caroline. “But my little Cocasse only ever has caviar!”
“And the occasional shoe,” muttered Darcy, having lost a good pair to the little furbag.
“If someone could tell Cook...” said the lady, looking at Darcy, probably in him recognizing a Doer, or if it was just that she sensed Caroline was not one.
Five minutes, some more grease, and a spicy sausage later, a former white poodle burped and, the sausage all gone, allowed his mistress to carry him, wrapped in towels, to a bath.
Darcy felt a little abandoned, but at least he had received an admiring look from the Blonde when he lowered the barking ball of fluff to the floor.
Darcy, Miss Bingley, and her sister Mrs. Hurst always sat at the Captain’s table.
After all, Darcy was practically nobility, and the owner of Pemberley. And his Aunt was married to Sir William Lucas, the Governor of Singapore. Miss Bingley was very possibly the next Lady Darcy, whenever Darcy got his expected knighthood, and her sister had connections in Singapore.
The other passengers took turns, which made some dinners interesting, and most of them very dull. But at least the Captain, Joseph Forster, had taken a fancy to Miss Bingley, and so she was seated too far away from Darcy to be able to play footsie. Darcy had put that on his mental list about Caroline Bingley: In favor:rich, good - looking. Against: that poodle, played footsie under table, the fluffball, called him Darcy like she had the right, that pretence of a dog...
The list went on.Tonight, the guests were the couple who had so ably assisted them in the Embarassing Poodle Scenario, and their party, who turned out to include several women and the Blonde.
After some introductions, Darcy knew that the couple, Mr. And Mrs. Gardiner, were travelling with his sister and three nieces, one of whom was the Blonde.
Actually, her sisters were blonde too, but they did not deserve the capital b. Her name was Jane Bennet, and she looked even more incredible by candlelight.
Darcy sat next to her, enchanted.For the first five minutes.
Then he realized she was nice, but...
Well, he wouldn’t say stupid, but because he was always comparing every woman he met to Caroline, Caroline actually had some more in favors on her list: she could read, and did, and she knew some geography.
Miss Bennet knew how to behave, and was gentle and not a gossip, but if this was the alternative to Caroline Bingley, then... And Mrs. Hurst had told him last night her sister was ‘uncertain of his affections’, but she could have been lying.Maybe he should marry his cousin Anne, but then his sister would never speak with him again. Ever.
Maybe he shouldn’t marry at all, but then there was the Darcy Name, and Blood, and Noble Lineage et cetera, and Pemberley did need a wealthy woman’s touch.
Mrs. Bennet was not present at table. Miss Bennet told him she was indisposed, and apparently this had been the case since before Suez, when their party boarded the Wellington. Darcy let out some sympathetic noises, not really bothered by the fact that his companion’s Mother was absent.
“And why are you travelling all the way to Singapore?” he asked her, leaning in a little to smell her lovely perfume. Nothing wrong with looking, after all. Or smelling.
“Oh, we live there! My father was born there, but he moved to England in his youth, where he met Mama. I was born in England, and so were all my sisters but Lizzie, the oldest, who’s never left Singapore at all.”
“Really? At a guess, you and your sisters are very familiar with England, are you not?”
“Indeed, Mr. Darcy, I myself have spent little time in Singapore, and so have my sisters Mary and Katherine. Little Lydia, who is but a child, does seem to prefer the tropics, though I think Mama would have her schooled in England.”
“Five sisters in all? And are they all as pretty as you, Miss Bennet?” No one would be hurt by a little flirting.
“Darcy! Do come and tell the captain about the accident we suffered in Cadiz!” screeched Miss Bingley.
So she’d noticed. Maybe it was all for the best.
“Please excuse me, Miss Bennet. Maybe we shall speak another time?”
“I would be delighted,” she replied, but there was no real feeling in her voice.
Darcy wondered if he’d lost his powers. Maybe it was the looks of ownership Miss Bingley threw at him. Made him feel like her blasted animal.
The furball hisssed at him when he sat down next to Caroline.
Darcy spent the following week secretly tailing Miss Bennet, and in turn being tailed by Mrs. Hurst, who seemed to want to take a more active part in her sister’s future.
Mrs. Hurst, like her sister, was a stunning redhead, but where Caroline Bingley was tall and thin, Louisa Hurst was short and round, giving them a slightly ridiculous appearance when together. Caroline also had impeccable taste, while Louisa preferred to wear purple.
They both had a preference for dragging things around, Darcy’d noticed, only while Caroline dragged her living carpet, Louisa dragged her husband.
Not that the difference was that great between the two appendages, Hurst merely weighed more.General Hannibal Hurst was currently stationed in Singapore, and unaware of the fact that his dear wife was about to descend upon him.
Darcy knew Hurst of old, and didn’t think he’d be very pleased.Anyway, Darcy was admiring Jane Bennet's... backside (which was as lovely as her face), leaning on the railing one fine morning, when Louisa sidled up to him.
“Admiring the view, Mr. Darcy?” said she.
“Yes indeed,” he responded, without thinking.
“A shame, though... So much beauty but such bad blood.”
“I’m sorry? Bad blood?”
Louisa Hurst gave him an edged smile.
“Miss Jane Bennet’s mother.”
“Her mother?”
Great, now I sound like one of those grammophones, when the needle is stuck.
“Oh, you have not met Mrs. Bennet?”
“I have not had the pleasure, no. They tell me she’s indisposed.”
“Well, that certainly explains... I shall do my utmost to introduce the two of you, then.”
“Really, Mrs. Hurst, do not trouble yourself.”
She fussed with her skirts, and made as if to leave.
“Oh, no trouble at all, Mr. Darcy. No trouble at all.”
Coming from any woman, that meant trouble. Coming from Louisa Hurst, Darcy knew of old, that meant trouble.
One week from Singapore’s New Harbour, Darcy was bored with life on a ship.
After a while, you fell into a routine, taking the same morning walk, greeting the same people on their separate walks, eating the same solitary (Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were late risers) breakfast, playing the same games with the more active passengers, having tea with whomever Miss Bingley decided were worthy of one’s company, and then having to spend the dinner protecting Miss Bingley from a Captain more and more determined to get to know her... or at least cop a feel.Really, Darcy was worrying about Forster; every night, the smell of gin emanated more strongly from his mouth. Not a comforting thought, what with Forster being Captain of the ship and all. Had Darcy been less of a gentleman, he’d have foisted Miss Bingley on the Captain, and hoped for the best, ‘you know, carry on old chap, as long as he doesn’t touch the bottle it’ll all be worth it...’
Or, a much better fantasy, he’d toss Mrs. Hurst at the Captain. She, too, was a redhead...
But the Captain wanted Miss Bingley, and Miss Bingley had been very quiet lately, letting her sister do all the talking.
Maybe she would be the ideal mistress of Pemberley. And, never to be forgotten, she could repair the roofs with her money.
Pity about the dog.Idle day - dreams were interrupted when the door to the parlour in which he was having tea was thrown open, and several blonde women tumbled in. One of them, the fat one in the middle, said in a voice that would certainly wake any sleeping Captains:
“So Jane where is that lovely man who is the Owner of Pemberley and soon to be titled?”
Silence. Darcy literally froze. So did Miss Bingley.
Mrs. Hurst, that conniving woman, merely smiled without turning to see who it was. Across the room, an American woman named Mrs. Warring, Darcy had talked to her a few times, started to guffaw, first silently, then, when she could no longer control herself, loudly.Miss Bingley, recovering, turned to Darcy to say something no doubt vicious, but before she had more than opened her mouth, another voice cut in:
“WHY, THERE HE IS! AND LOOK, HE’S IN THE COMPANY OF THAT DEAR MRS. HURST, LORD MARY NOW YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF YOU CAN’T GIVE YOUR HUSBAND ANY OFFSPRING!”
Mrs. Hurst kept smiling, but there was an edge to her smile now.
“WELL MY DEAR JANE, ARE YOU NOT GOING TO INTRODUCE US TO YOUR FRIEND... JANE? JANE! OH, WHERE HAS THAT GIRL GOT TO, I SWEAR SHE WAS HERE A MOMENT AGO... WELL DARCY WILL HAVE TO WAIT THEN, BUT THERE IS NO HURRY. DIDYOU KNOW KITTY THAT HIS AUNT IS LADY CATHERINE LUCAS?”
She turned, and walked out. All the blondes followed in her wake, and, again, there was silence in the parlour.
“Well,” remarked Mrs. Warring to her daughter, “I never! And they say we lack manners!”
Miss Warring gave Darcy a pitying smile.
Chapter Two: Journey’s End, Or Beginning?
“Darcy!”
“Bingley, old chap! I say, you’re looking swell! Climate agrees with you, and all that?”
“Ce – certainly, Darcy. I shall happily spend my life here.”
Charles Bingley’s stutter was almost gone. And he’d somehow added several pounds of muscle to his lean frame. And he had a tan to kill for.
Darcy was astonished, he remembered his old friend from Eton and Oxford as a pale, shy, fellow, pleasant company for sure, but not as... as masculine as one self and cousin Richard. Bingley usually had two pints of lager, sang too loud, and passed out. They would leave him and go on drinking, and then return to collect him at closing – time.
Once, they’d forgotten to, and through an impossible series of events, Bingley had woke up in the bed of the wife of the Vice – Chancellor. With the Vice – Chancellor tucked in beside him, dressed in cap and gown.But these fond reminiscences were rudely interrupted by a screeching voice:
“Spend your life? Really, Charles, you are so not funny. What about Georgiana Darcy?”
Darcy snapped, without thinking:
“What about my sister?” Saint Georgiana’s name was not to be mentioned in the same sentence as any man’s, not if he had anything to say about it. Caroline retreated a step.
“I... I was just... The...”
“N – nice to s, s, s - see you too, Ca – Caroline,” stuttered Bingley, sounding like the schoolboy he used to be. Caroline had that effect on people.
Now, is that a good thing for the future Mistress of Pemberley, or...?
“Yes, hello Charles, long time no proper letters.” Caroline was never intimidated for long. “You write worse than you speak.”
Darcy looked away, embarrassed. Rely on Caroline to put down her brother. He turned his head just in time to see Jane Bennet, a. k. a. the Blonde, disembark.
For all of two seconds, she held her skirt above her ankles. Good grief! Maybe a woman with brains isn’t that important after all? But then he heard a loud voice calling from behind Miss Bennet, and all his desire disappeared. Mrs. Bennet as mother – in – law? No thank you.“Ah - anyway, D - Darcy, we’d better get you two to Raffles now, I, I made sure good grief who is that?”
“What?” Both Darcy and Caroline looked questioningly at Bingley. He was almost... pale, and his eyes were fastened on a spot somewhere beyond Darcy’s left shoulder. Darcy followed Bingley’s eyes, and beheld Jane Bennet, her mother, and a old sea – bear, tanned and tattooed.
“Do you know the fellow?” asked Darcy. “I did see him once or twice on the ship, but I reckoned he was just a plain sailor.”
“The fat woman?” sneered Caroline at the same time. “Unfortunately you’ll get to know her quite well, as she seems to be connected to the, ahum, the Singapore Society.”
But Bingley didn’t pay them much attention.
“Her. I mean her. The Blonde.”
Darcy could have sworn he heard a capital B in there somewhere. My Blonde? My Blonde Miss Jane Bennet? My Blonde beautiful but stupid Jane? The Beautiful Blonde Bennet... Wait, I think I see a pattern here...
He glanced over at Bingley. Bingley, the lads would always call him ‘Pretty Boy Bingley’, and so blonde you could mistake him for a Viking, and as to brains... Maybe she was Bingley’s long – lost twin, which would explain why he had no similarities whatsoever to his sisters...
Darcy shook himself. Back to business.“That, my friend, is Miss Jane Bennet, recently returned from England. And the lady next to her... is her mother.” That should be considered fair warning.
But Bingley just kept grinning stupidly.
“That’s her mother? Capital, capital, must be introduced to her... soon. Oh, wait, did you say Bennet? Well, splendid! She’s Elizabeth’s sister!” And Bingley smiled with great relish, as if he’d had to solve a difficult Puzzle, and Darcy had just handed him the Key.
“Elizabeth’s sister?” said Darcy. “And who, if I may ask, is this Elizabeth Bennet?”
“I’m the rather short woman trying to get past you and your luggage,” a voice replied, scaring Darcy no end.
He took two rapid steps backwards, collided with the owner of the voice, stumbled over Caroline’s growling furball, and fell to the ground. Cocasse, overexcited at being stepped on, bit him.And a pair of very fine eyes in a pretty face surrounded by the most intriguing dark curls looked down at him, and the lady said:
“I’m not that short”, and then she smiled and everything went black.
“I am sure I have some smelling - salts somewhere...”
“I think perhaps some water...”
“Maybe Cocasse could lick his face...?”
This last remark had the stunning effect of getting Fitzwilliam Darcy conscious and on his feet in about one second, though his feet were none too steady.
“I’m... ah, I’m perfectly all right.”
“But...” said Caroline.
“Really, I’m quite all right, yes, thank you Caroline.”
He looked around for the curls and eyes... There. She really was quite short, and very, very pretty, and something about her made even the fiery Caroline Bingley look almost... pale.
Maybe it was that her dark colours seemed to fit in so much in this exotic environment, the busy, noisy, crowded docks, the moist heat, the many snippets of foreign languages he heard about him... Her simple white dress was not the height of London fashion, waistlines having lowered somewhat the past year, but it suited her very well, and looked like it was made after an expensive Parisian pattern.“Mr. Darcy, I presume?” she said, and held his eyes.
Instantly, he blurted:
“An angel from heaven...”
“Mr. Darcy!”
Caroline sounded truly outraged, and with a start, he realised what he’d just said. Elizabeth Bennet didn’t start, or look outraged, though. She merely glanced at Miss Bingley.
“I believe Mr. Darcy was only quoting the famous Dr. Livingstone, as I was... impertinent enough to greet him in the way of Mr. Stanley.”
“Doc... Oh.” Miss Bingley was quelled for the moment.
Bingley cleared his throat, nervously, and threw another look over Darcy’s shoulder. Oh, yeah, the Blonde.
“Ah... Elizabeth, this is my sister, Caroline Bingley. Caroline, this is,” she threw him an acerbic I – don’t – want – to – be – introduced look, he faltered, stopped, had a better idea, and soldiered on: “This is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“And I don’t think Mr. Darcy and I need more introductions, Charles,” said Miss Bennet, ignoring Miss Bingley, “Besides, Mother is waiting for me and I haven’t seen my family in years, so if you’ll excuse me...”
She wound her way round them and their luggage, stopping only to give the damned dog a pat.“Oh, and I should have that bite seen to, Mr. Darcy,” she said, over her shoulder. “This climate is not good for festering sores.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
But I like tall, thin women. Statuesque ones. Redheads. Blondes. Blondes!
Beside him, he heard Charles Bingley sigh, longingly.
I like stupid blondes!
Chapter Three: Home Is Where You Put Your Bags
After making sure Mrs. Hurst was on her way to her husband (Darcy was happy he wouldn’t have to see that reunion), Bingley organised some porters and the three of them got in a carriage.
“Isn’t Miss Bingley staying with you, Charles?”
“Heavens, no, I have a small room above my office, and I’m afraid my manservant has his whole family living in the kitchen.”
“Charles! How can you allow that?”
“Caroline, this is Singapore, things are different here. You’ll be very comfortable at Raffles... Unless Louisa...”
“He doesn’t know she’s coming.”
“What? You didn’t tell Hannibal? Oh, dear.”
“Don’t you ‘oh, dear’ me Charles Bingley, Hurst hasn’t written more than twice in the last two years!”
Please don’t have this discussion in front of me!
Charles must have seen his desperate look, as he changed the topic of conversation.
¨”Right! Well, you must know all about Raffles, it’s the most famous hotel in Asia, or if it’s the only hotel in Asia, I can never remember. Caroline, you should be happy to know both Mr. Conrad and Mr. Kipling stayed there, in 1888 and 1889, respectively.”
“I know, Charles. I do read, you know.”
“Yes, I’m very impressed with people like you and Darcy and Elizabeth, always reading. Myself, I fall asleep every time I open a book.”
“Elizabeth Bennet?” asked Darcy.
“Very bright girl!” replied Bingley. “Doesn’t fuss about it, tho’. Not one to flaunt her accomplishments, like some women.”
“Miss Bennet is a great reader, no doubt.” Said Caroline snidely.
“From your tone, I suspect that was not a compliment, Caroline. But yes, she is a ‘great reader’. I do wonder if her sister is the same...”
“You can stop wondering, Charles. Miss Jane Bennet had trouble reading even the little notes on the ship’s notice board, as I recall.”
Her little barb was lost on Bingley.
“Really? Well, splendid! Couldn’t court a girl who reads, she’d think me a frightful fool!”
Caroline huffed.
Raffles Hotel was huge and white and very splendid, at least from the outside. Porters ran out to take their luggage, and help them inside.
“They installed electricity everywhere last year,” said Charles. “All modern and shiny, this place. Lived here for a long time, myself. And they have a French Chef.”
“It’s hardly the Ritz,” muttered Caroline.
But it was, in a way, like the Ritz in Paris, only cut down in size and leaning on two separate heritages. Darcy found nothing to remark on, when he looked around the bustling Lobby.
“Excellent, Bingley, I owe you one.”
“Well, you took care of my sisters, old chap, it was the least I could do.”
“Oh, well, you know, Charles...”
I might as well tell Bingley I’m about to marry his sister... Not that I’ve asked her, but he should know...
But then, a woman who was introduced as Mrs. Reynolds, the manager of Raffles, came up to them, and soon, Charles and Caroline were off to see her rooms, and Mrs. Reynolds was leading him to his own suite.
While Darcy was dressing after a quick nap and a bath, there was a knock on the door. A servant entered, holding a silver tray, on which a letter was lying. Darcy knew at once who’d sent it, as it sported a seal about the same size as the African Star, scarlet and with ribbons trailing far below the edges of the envelope.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh Lucas, née Fitzwilliam, had spent much time composing a family crest suitable for her important self. The starting point was the Fitzwilliam Unicorn, now standing in front of the de Bourgh stylised castle (Darcy had his doubts about that castle; he reckoned it was an invention of the late Sir Lewis). The latest addition was the rising sun in the background, the Lucas’ crest, a play on the Latin word for light.
The composition made Darcy cringe, but worst of all he found the ribbons, embroidered with Lady Catherine’s personal motto: Pro Patria et Pemberlii et Rosingii et Lucii Lodgii en Aeternum!
For the Country and Pemberley and Rosings and Lucas Lodge Forever!Why Catherine had to include Pemberley he knew not. Pemberley was a Darcy estate. He was also quite certain that wasn’t how one formed the imperative of a noun, even if one put the clause in vocative.
Anyway, the note was short and to the point:
From Her Ladyship, the Most Esteemed Wife of the Governor of Singapore,
His Majesty’s Most Trusted Servant, The Right Honourable Sir William Lucas OBE;
Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam de Bourgh Lucas;
To the Honourable Fitzwilliam Francis Alexander Darcy;
Greetings,
Nephew, we await you in the Green Parlour. Do make haste,
Your Dear Aunt,
Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam de Bourgh Lucas
Raffles Hotel, Singapore, May 10th Anno Domini 1900
‘Pro Patria et Pemberlii et Rosingii et Lucii Lodgii en Aeternum!’Oh, dear. Unless Lady Catherine was using the Royal Plural, that meant his extended family would be there to greet him. Warts and all.
Raffles had several parlours, suitable for different kinds of company. The Green Parlour was very much a place were fine ladies had tea, guarded by several portraits of the late Queen Victoria, all painted when she was in a less flattering age.
When Darcy entered, he found his Aunt beneath an especially imposing rendition of the Queen, complete with two chins and a piercing glare and, appropriately for Lady Catherine, several mottos in Latin.Lady Catherine herself bore little resemblance to the dead Queen. She was a tall woman, with pale skin and the jet – black Fitzwilliam hair, which had Darcy do a double – take. There was no way a woman of her age... It had to be dyed, he realised.
All in all, she was a well – kept old bird, except she looked much like the proverbial cat that had gotten into the cream, and her hair was piled precariously high on her head, sloping forward, so that one would constantly worry about it topping over.
Yes, she looked much like he remembered her from home.“Fitzwilliam Francis Alexander! Come here and let me look at you!”
He winced.
“Fitzwilliam will do nicely, Aunt Catherine.”
“Yes, yes, now will you come here and let me embrace you, nephew.”
He was embraced in a surprisingly firm way, and couldn’t help breathing in her perfume. It was very strong, and not very nice, in fact it smelled downright weird.
“You are more like my father every day, Fitzwilliam, his true heir! Oh, that was a real man, your grandfather!”
“Oh, Gaaaawd, Fizz, let’s all hope you ave nothing like the late Eavl. Used to scave the beejesus out of me, as a boy, with that viding – cvop!” interrupted a male voice.
Darcy and his Aunt turned towards the man slouching in a huge chair by the unlit fireplace. He was tall, judging from the long legs sticking out, and dressed impeccably in the latest London fashion, well, what had been the latest London fashion when Darcy had left Town, and had the dark curly Fitzwilliam hair.
But unlike Darcy, his face was tanned, and he had big blue eyes, which made him appear as young and innocent as Charlie Bingley.“Richard?” said Darcy, unable to believe his eyes. “What on earth happened to you? Why, last I saw you....”
But here Richard Fitzwilliam sprung from his chair, and was at Darcy’s side in a second.
“Why, last you saw me, I was the vevy same lazy good for nothing you see heve today, as I’m suve Aunt Cathevine will agvee.”
Lady Catherine snorted.
“Indeed! You see, Darcy, your cousin has no ambition at all! Why, he’s the disgrace of our very family! He thinks he’s quite the dandy!”
Darcy was stunned. Certainly, it had been many years since he last saw his cousin, but this! Why, Richard was supposed to be a Colonel! In the Army! A real soldier! And he certainly had never… lisped! What on earth...?
Then Richard winked at him.
The evening went straight downhill from there.
Chapter Four: The Relativity of Relatives
Darcy was slowly edging away from his cousin, when the door to the parlour opened and three young ladies entered, an older gentleman bringing up the rear.
“At last!” exclaimed Lady Catherine. “Fitzwilliam, you must meet your dear Uncle, Sir William Lucas, His Majesty’s Governor of Singapore!”
Darcy bowed.
“I’m honoured to meet you, sir.”
Sir William smiled and nodded, shaking Darcy’s hand vigorously.
“Capital, capital! A fine young man, Lady Catherine, very handsome, yes, capital, capital!” This speech did not raise any higher expectations of his new Uncle in Darcy’s mind.
“Oh! And naturally you must meet my daughters, Miss Charlotte Lucas and Miss Mariah Lucas, Charlotte, Mariah, this is your dear step – mother’s nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Of Pemberley!” put in Lady Catherine.
The daughters did not resemble their fat and rather short father, both being tall and slender. Where he lacked hair, they had an abundance of nut – brown curls, and where his colour was high, they were pale and pretty girls.
The elder, Miss Charlotte, was handsome rather than pretty, and maybe a little old to be unwed, but the younger, Miss Mariah, was not yet one and twenty, Darcy reckoned.Miss Mariah was certainly very pretty. She had a way to turn her head that reminded him of someone else... Yes, that was it: Miss Elizabeth Bennet had the same way of turning her head. Now, there was a pretty head if ever he saw one: all those dark curls around that perfect face... But that was neither here nor there.
Miss Mariah looked him straight in the eyes, and he was quick to look away... One wink was enough for the evening, thank you very much!“Fitzwilliam! You have yet to meet the most important person here tonight! My daughter, your dearest cousin, Anne!” Lady Catherine screeched.
Darcy, reminded, sought out the last of the three girls, and found her... unchanged from the last time he’d seen her.
Anne de Bourgh wasn’t ugly, not at all, just plain and nothing like her mother.
She took after her father, all brown and yellow, take your pick, whatever wasn’t brown, like hair and dress and shoes, was yellow, like her skin and teeth and... eyes.
Funny, he couldn’t remember her having yellow eyes. She looked positively... tigerish.He bowed over her hand, complete with claws.
“Cousin.” She eyed him predatorily.
“Fitzwilliam... Darcy...” slowly rolling his name on her tongue, like she was considering whether to kill and eat him, or just eat him. He disengaged.
“I.. that is...” He turned back to Lady Catherine. And then, he shivered. Anne had put her claws... hands, on his arm.
She purred:“Mother, may I give Fitzwilliam a tour of Raffles?”
“Why certainly Anne,” beamed Lady Catherine. “There is no...”
But she was interrupted.
“Darcy! Darcy dear, where are you?” The door to the parlour was thrown open and Caroline Bingley entered, poodle draped across one shoulder.
“Darcy, have you... Oh! I didn’t know you had company...” She smiled vaguely in Lady Catherine’s direction.
“Caroline, you know I have family here in Singapore!” Really, she ought not to barge in like that... A sentiment obviously shared by Anne de Bourgh, whose claws dug into his arm.
“No, really, dear Fitzwilliam, do introduce us to this... lady.” Anne purred. Or, well, she meant to purr, he was sure, but it was more of a hiss.
Caroline eyed her competition.
“Yes, dear Darcy, do introduce me to your relatives. Darcy has told me so much about you all.”
Which was a blatant lie.
With the exception of Georgiana, his relatives were raving loons, all of them, even Richard it seemed, and he didn’t talk about them if he could avoid it.“Ah, Aunt Catherine, Sir William, this is Miss Caroline Bingley. I’m sure you know her brother – in – law, General Hurst.”
“Oh, yes! Jolly chap, old Hannibal!” cried Sir William, and eyed Caroline appreciatively. “Demned good shot, I say! Knew him back in India, chased natives together, good chap all ‘round!”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” cut in Lady Catherine coolly. “But Miss Bingley is not interested in our family matters, and we shall have to take our leave of her… and her… creature.”
“But I...”
“Nice to meet you, Miss... Dingley.” Hissed Anne, who had his arm in an iron grip.
Caroline looked at him imploringly, but really, she had barged in, and... And he could feel the impatience radiating from Aunt Catherine.
“Please, Miss Bingley, I shall see you at dinner... With Charles and your sister, of course.”
She had no choice but to leave.
Anne smiled.
“Poor lamb,” she hissed through her nostrils. Darcy was absolutely certain his cousin wasn’t referring to the poodle, however much the dog resembled a mutton.
Some time was spent discussing various family members, or rather, Lady Catherine spent some time dissecting the behaviour of every absent member of the family, while Darcy gathered his courage.
Finally, he turned to Lady Catherine.“Aunt, Miss Bingley and I...”
“Oh, be silent Fitzwilliam, I have no time for her. My dear Sir William is in a hurry, and I have my duties, too. Anne, however...”
“Anne had bettev leave, Aunt, I mean to have a man – to – man talk with Davcy.” Lisped Richard.
“Rubbish! But she is not strong, my Anne, so I’ll take her home. Girls, say your goodbyes to Fitzwilliam!”
Anne tried to kiss his cheek, but thankfully he was too tall for her.
The ladies and Sir William left.
Darcy would not be alone with his strange cousin, so he mumbled a ‘goodnight’ and hurried towards the door. But Fitzwilliam’s voice stopped him cold.
“Why the hurry, Darce? I thought we could catch up, with all those women away at last.” Not a lisp anywhere.
Darcy swore and turned around. Fitzwilliam had left his station by the fireplace, and straightened up, and suddenly his eyes were less glazed over and the mouth was firm and manly.“What sort of a game are you playing, Richard? I will not be made fun of, least of all by you!”
“Still proud, I hear. Well, I had you fooled, didn’t I? If I can fool you, my plan might actually work...”
“What plan? And why are you in civilian dress? Does your Mother know you’ve left the Army? She’d renounce you if she saw you!”
“Oh, Mother knows me too well, any rumours she’d hear she’d never believe. Unless, of course, someone reliable, someone like you, were to tell her I live like a leech off my Aunt, playing the dandy. You she’d believe. That is one of the reasons I have for telling you the truth.”
“You’re living off Aunt Catherine?”
“Nominally. Oh, not to worry, she can afford it. Did you know she has not touched a penny of her inheritance from Lewis? She is leaving it all for Anne’s husband. That includes Rosings.”
“Yes, yes, I know all about Rosings and Anne. What I want to know is why you’re acting like a sleuth! Lisping!”
“Wot, you don’t like my lissssp? Why, next you’ll be telling me my cravat is foppish!” Fitzwilliam said in a high, affected voice.
“Stop it, you’re giving me a headache. Are you still in the Army?”
Richard turned serious.
“Yes, I am. If you want the truth, I’m on a detached mission for Army Intelligence, yeah, yeah, I know that’s a contradiction of terms, har har, but really, Darce, Singapore is too important, being in the midst of all this trade. There are more things sold here than silk and spice, my friend. Things of utmost importance to our country.”
“Spying? Is that what you are about, Richard?”
”Keep your voice down!” Fitzwilliam tip – toed to the half – open door, and looked outside with a dramatic gesture. He looked over his shoulder at his cousin.
“Don’t say a word about this to anyone, you hear? Just play along. And keep your eyes and ears open. If there is anything, the CID can always get hold of me, anytime, anywhere.” And then he was out the door, disappearing very fast.
Darcy shook his head. This was one of those days, the kind that you really preferred to forget.
Chapter Five: The Making Of A Deal
Darcy followed his guide, a friendly American named Philips, through the bustling crowds at Raffles Place, Singapore's centre of commerce. He'd met Mr. Philips in the Bar and Billiard Room at Raffles, where he'd tried to escape Miss Bingley (and any relative he could think of).
Unfortunately, the Bar was open to women.
Mr. Philips had introduced himself in that free manner of his people, and offered to buy Darcy a drink. The ensuing conversation led to the discovery of a common goal: both gentlemen meant to visit the Emporium on the morrow.
The Emporium was the common name for Gardiner's Silk and Spice Emporium, est. 1867, an office for trade and a store for certain European articles, such as Parisian patterns for ladies' dresses, Swiss Chocolate, English Marmalade, and Swedish Clogs.
Darcy had been told they also supplied skilled interpreters and guides, and Philips explained he was a long - standing business - partner of the Gardiner family.
Darcy was happy to follow in the wake of the energetic American, as the sounds and smells of the markets were as yet unfamiliar, and quite overwhelming. Nevertheless he knew he'd get used to it; across one street, fortunately too far away, he glimpsed his Aunt Catherine haggling over a piece of blue silk with a Malay tradesman. Out of doors, Aunt Catherine seemed to shed some of her opinions on the Proper Conduct of Ladies.
Philips took a sharp turn to his right, nearly losing Darcy, and stopped in front of a two - story building, with big glass widows to the street, and a gold inscription:
Gardiner's Silk and Spice EmporiumEst. 1867
Silk ~Spice~Foreign Delights~European Wares~Strange Fruits
E. Bennet Skilled Interpretations and Guidance
Est. 1896A bell tinkled softly when they stepped inside.
The Emporium's ground floor was the actual store, Darcy discovered, and the offices lay up the stairs.
A smiling clerk led the gentlemen upstairs, where a pretty woman greeted Mr. Philips by name, and kindly inquired about Darcy's needs. When told that he was looking for an interpreter and guide, she led him to a very pleasant room, with a window overlooking the bustling market."Someone will be with you shortly, sir," she said, and withdrew.
Darcy looked around the office, and prepared to meet the elusive Mr. Bennet, the father of such beautiful daughters and the husband of that horrid woman.
Suddenly, the door opened and a little girl tumbled in. She was remarkably pretty, if a little tousled, with dark hair, and her eyes had an almost wild expression. She looked about her, and when she saw Darcy, launched herself into his arms. Surprised, he quickly caught her, lest she should fall.
He was sure he'd seen those eyes before..."Please, Sir, rescue my sister!" she cried out, clinging to him.
And then, she steadied herself, backed off, and gave him a curiously probing look. He felt as if she was measuring him against some unknown ideal, and apparently he passed, for she said:
"Oh yes, please rescue my sister!"
"Is your sister in some kind of distress?" he asked, frowning.
She looks so very familiar...
"Of courseshe is, or I wouldn't have asked you for help now would I?" the girl said, impatient. "Now will you please ask her to marry you before it's too late?"
"Lydia!" The cry came from the doorway. Darcy looked up, and found Miss Elizabeth Bennet's dark eyes.
I knew I'd seen those eyes before...
Lydia launched herself at her sister, who almost fell, not being very tall or stout.
"Oh Lizzie don't be mad at me! Only the Reverend's on his way, and he told Jamie Forrester who told Victoria Eagles who told Soon - My who told Sanji who told me, that he was going to propose to you!"
No! He stifled the cry before it became vocal.
Heavens, Darcy, you've not said five sentences to the woman, and now you want to prevent her from marrying? You cad...
"And this gentleman is so tall and handsome, Lizzie, so I thought you could marry him instead! Please, please don't marry Mr. Collins!"
Please don't.
Elizabeth Bennet blushed.
"Now, Lydia, I won't marry anyone, and especially not the Reverend Collins! But you can't go around asking gentlemen like Mr. Darcy to marry me! I'll be the talk of the town!"
Darcy cleared his throat.
"I take it you are all right then, Miss Bennet? Only, your sister was quite upset."
"Thank you Mr. Darcy, my sister has a lively... imagination. I am quite all right. I hope you were not offended?"
"Not at all," he smiled, genuinely amused.
"Why can't you marry him?" asked Lydia, and pointed at Darcy. "He's very nice looking." This last with intensity.
"Now, Lydia, you are too old for these antics! Marriage is a serious matter, not to be laughed at. And besides, Mr. Darcy here is a very busy man, and you know what Father has told you about disturbing clients."
"He doesn't look that busy," said Lydia. "He is just staring at you. When did you meet him, Lizzie?"
Darcy blushed, and so did Miss Bennet.
"Enough, Lydia, please leave now, or I'll tell Uncle Gardiner about how you behave in front of clients."
She firmly evicted her sister. Lydia's muttered objections were cut off as the door was shut in her face.
Miss Bennet turned to him, and offered her hand.
"I'm happy to see you again, Mr. Darcy. I hope the mess at the docks didn't spoil your appreciation of our fair city?"
"Oh, no, certainly not Miss Bennet. Singapore is all it's said to be, and more! But I must be allowed to get used to the pace of the city, it can rival London at its busiest!"
"I'm told Singapore is much like the large American cities, like New York and Boston, though I have never visited them. But many American friends tell me Singapore is quite outstanding for this part of the world."
"Indeed, Miss Bennet. I... ah, I have the honour of being somewhat acquainted with your sister, Miss Jane Bennet, and she has told me you have spent your whole life here?"
"Quite right, Mr. Darcy, I objected strongly to my Mother's frequent attempts to bring me to England as a child. I am fortunate my Father spends most of his time here, thus permitting me to remain."
"Speaking of your father, I'm afraid I have another appointment soon," but oh how I wish Caroline wouldn't insist on luncheon, "do you think he could possibly..."
"My father?" Her surprise was evident. "But Mr. Darcy, is there a misunderstanding? Are you here on a matter of business with the Emporium?"
"What? No, I'm here for a guide! Isn't your father...?"
She laughed, only it was more like a snort really.
"Oh, this thing will happen all the time with new clients. Mr. Darcy, and please won't you have a seat, I'm the 'E. Bennet' of E. Bennet Interpretations and Guidance! My father, Edward Bennet, is Chairman of the Emporium."
"You?"
"Indeed, I founded my own business four years ago, with the support of my family. In Singapore, Mr. Darcy, women have a long tradition of earning their own keep. And," her voice changed somewhat, "I am fully qualified for my work, I assure you... I speak six languages fluently, and I know Singapore very well."
My God, she's a regular Bluestocking!
"Eh... I'm sure I did not mean to offend, Miss Bennet... Only..."
"Mr. Darcy, if you have objections to a woman guide, I won't argue with you. But, trust me on this one, I am the best you'll find in Singapore. Ask anyone."
"Well, yes, I had your name from friends in England, so naturally I believe you... But, Miss Bennet, the proprieties... I am an unmarried man, and you..."
"Ah, yes, my virtue, and all that. You are not the first one to voice objections Mr. Darcy, and I assure you I am always accompanied by my servant Lao. Lao is to be trusted with more than my virtue Mr. Darcy, indeed he would die for me."
She smiled, but it wasn't quite a smile.
I can't stand those lovely eyes all clouded over...
He took a deep breath, and a decision was made.
Leaning forward, he offered his hand."Miss Bennet, I'll be happy to work with you. And trust me, we will have hard work ahead... I'm not here to cater to the whims of my relatives."
Especially not Richard Fitzwilliam's.
Her eyes lit up.
"Mr. Darcy, I won't let you down."
She took his hand in a firm handshake.
He smiled at her smiling at him smiling at her...
Now, the only problem is to let go of her hand...
Chapter Six: The Price Of A Woman
Well, that wasn’t a problem for very long. She let go of his hand after a decisive shake, and got down to business.
“Why don’t you tell me about your reasons for hiring me, Mr. Darcy? We shall create a strategy, and then, we shall discuss my fee.” She smiled predatorily. “I assume your friends in London informed you I’m rather expensive?”
Darcy smiled back, his smile mirroring hers.
I feel like a barracuda having dinner with a shark…
“Miss Bennet, I am here to give you an offer you can’t refuse.”
“An offer I can’t refuse… Why do I suddenly have this feeling I’m about to refuse you, Mr. Darcy?”
“Ah, the insecurities of Man… Or Woman, for that matter. Miss Bennet, let me be frank. I have an estate back in England, called Pemberley. You’d like it.”
I’d sure like you there!
“I’m happy for you, Mr. Darcy, but what does your estate in England have to do with Singapore?”
“Well, you see, Pemberley has a leaking roof.”
“Then I suggest you repair it.”
“Aye, that’s the rub. Frankly, I can’t. Can’t afford to. Meanwhile, my estate is falling into disrepair and the servants have fled. So I need to make a great deal of money very fast. And that, is where you, and Singapore, enter.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of me entering anything, Mr. Darcy!” she objected quickly. “I’m not a great believer in ‘make money fast’ – schemes!”
“Well, I told you it’s an offer you can’t refuse, Miss Bennet. You see, I have not told you what I intend to trade in.”
“And what exactly, Mr. Darcy, do you intend to trade in?”
He leaned forward, invading her personal space.
She smells of honey…
“Rubber, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I intend to deal in rubber.” He gave her what he hoped was a relaxed smile, but, considering she was the first of many many people he had to convince, his smile might seem a little anxious.
Elizabeth Bennet stared at him. She blinked. She stared at him some more. She leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes, and opened them again. She took a deep breath.
“I’m listening,” she said.
Darcy very very quietly let out a sigh of relief.
“And I heard that.” She grinned.
“Rubber, for motor – cars and bicycles. For the aeroplanes that my friends at the Ministry tell me will need tyres.”
“Well, yes. Rubber for motor – cars. Yes. But Mr. Darcy, Singapore rubber is sold East, not to Europe. And trust me, it is sold. The rubber is a ‘steady income’, for the farmers around here.”
“Indeed, Miss Bennet, and that is where you come in. You will have to introduce me to the right people, both in the Colonial Administration but especially the farmers. And the Chinese and Malay communities, where you will have to be my voice in some cases. You can help me map the trade.”
Elizabeth had closed her eyes.
“I’m not stupid, Mr. Darcy. You will have to offer the farmers a higher price.”
“Of course. But that won’t be a problem; the rubber you can get in Europe today isn’t as good as the Singapore stuff. As long as someone, me, gets it to Europe…”
“And you have the English connections, of course.”
“The English… and the German.”
“Ah.” She thought for a moment. “But there will be resentment. Singapore has sold rubber out East since forever. And that is where I’ll come in. Yes.”
Darcy leaned back and enjoyed watching her think. This was no stupid woman, when it came to brains she was Caroline Bingley’s match… Not to mention she was beautiful… And he was about to go to luncheon with Caroline. Oh, never mind her. Bingley could entertain his sister.
His idle thoughts were interrupted by her sudden move out of her chair and to the large window.“What on earth is the commotion about…” she said, peering out. And now even Darcy heard that the noise - level in the street had definitively risen. He rose and joined her… and if he was standing closer to her than necessary, well, no harm in that. Really.
They had a decent view of the street, and could see clearly what was causing the rabble. The crowd had divided to either side of the street, leaving a broad strip in the middle, and the people were cheering and shouting.“What on…” said Darcy, and then he saw the man running along the street, pursued by a dog. Now, he wouldn’t have found this interesting to watch, had it not been for two things; the man seemed to be a priest, and the dog wasn’t very big – Darcy would not have run from that little thing…
The priest was not in the best of health, as attested by his rather slow run and red face; he was, however, dressed in full clerical robes and around his neck hung a very big cross, which thumped against his chest as he ran.“Oh, dear,” said Elizabeth Bennet. “Oh, dear.”
“Who is the unfortunate man?”
She tried to control an escaping grin.
“That, Mr. Darcy, is the Reverend Collins, currently the leading light of the Church of England in Singapore.”
Reverend… Reverend Collins! She’s meant to marry that? I could have sworn her sister spoke in earnest… But that? Him, I mean, him, and I’m sorry, Lord, for judging one of Your Servants…
But surely this man was one of the Lord’s less successful specimens… As he stumbled along, pursued by the little dog, shouting at the top of his voice…
A pace behind the dog, seemingly unafraid of it, ran a ragtag collection of children – how typical of Singapore, Darcy realised, the mixture of European, Chinese, Malay, and Indian children, all dressed according to their cultural heritage… And in the middle, shouting and laughing, ran little Lydia Bennet. He didn’t have to point her out; Elizabeth saw her too.“Oh, dear,” she sighed. “I’m afraid my sister has too much freedom for a child of her temper… and that is George Wickham’s dog.”
What had that got to do with anything, he wondered, and also, why did that name ring a bell? George Wickham – he’d met him, Darcy was sure, but where? But Elizabeth had left the window.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Darcy, I’m keeping you from your next appointment. However, you’ll kindly allow me to think about this for a short time, before I decide? And also, there is the question of my fee.”
“Indeed, and I have taken the liberty of drawing up a contract, suggesting a suitable percentage of future profits.”
She pursed her lips.
“If I do this, I’ll enter it with my eyes open, Mr. Darcy – but I will have an advance for expenses.”
“I had not thought otherwise, Miss Bennet, I assure you.”
“Very well then, Sir, you’ll have your answer by this afternoon – I understand you’re staying at the Raffles.”
“Bingley assured me it was the best.”
“He is very right – but then Charles should know, as he has something to compare with. I’m afraid the Bingley flat is known all over Town…”
Darcy shook his head.
“I roomed with him at Eton, Miss Bennet – I can imagine all too many things about Charles Bingley’s flat…”
Her delighted laughter accompanied him from her office.
Outside, he was trying to decide the direction to go, when someone addressed him:
“Have you lost your way, Mr. Darcy?” The voice was friendly enough; Darcy turned and found the bartender from the Bar and Billiards Room at Raffles. A decent chap, well – spoken, he’d served Darcy the hotel specialty last night; something called a Singapore Sling. Very good, it was.
“Oh! Yes, I rather think I have… I’m due back at Raffles, is that the right way?”
“Yes, and then left when you’ve passed the market. After that, you should be all right.”
“Thank you – I’m not sure of this place yet.”
“Oh, don’t worry, it took me several weeks, at first – used to get lost all the time, and with my luck I’d end up in Chinatown – my Mandarin wasn’t very good.”
Darcy smiled.
“Well, thank you, Mr…” and then he remembered, I knew I’d met him! “Mr. Wickham.”
Wickham made a no problems, glad to help – gesture, and turned to leave. But Darcy asked impulsively:
“Looking for your dog, by any chance?”
Wickham turned back, surprised.
“I’m not, actually. I take it you’ve seen him recently.”
“I have. He was chasing a priest.”
Wickham laughed.
“Like master, like dog, I suppose. He’s got something against the Reverend Collins… Much like myself. Well, thanks for telling me, I’ll have to rope him in then… After I’ve paid a visit to a lady.”
“A lady? Then I shan’t keep you,” said Darcy, and nodded in farewell. Wickham was a pleasant chap, true, but one mustn’t forget he was a bartender. Then, something made him turn and look back.
Just in time to see Wickham enter the Emporium.Paid a visit to… that lady? Suddenly, Darcy’s good mood had quite disappeared. And he was late for luncheon.
Chapter Seven: Secrets And Memories
Singapore, with its busy life and a climate alternating between stifling heat and incessant rain proved too much for Darcy, and he spent a few days in bed with strange aches and pains…
He discovered previously hidden body parts, and dubbed them Parts that Appear When One Grows Old, found this so funny he had to write it down in a letter to Georgiana, dispatched the letter and then regretted it; his sister thought him invincible and the superior of Man, she might worry about him. The hotel staff catered to his every whim, and managed to turn every visitor away at the door; Darcy felt very much better when he was told Richard Fitzwilliam and Caroline Bingley had been upset at their being denied entrance. As for Miss Bingley, he had no confidence in her abilities as a nurse; he remembered how she’d abandoned her sister to go shopping in Paris, and Darcy had been forced to serve Mrs. Hurst tea and learn more about feminine cramps than he’d ever wanted to know.
A visitor that never appeared was Elizabeth Bennet, instead, he received a letter from her. It said only:
I accept your offer.
E. B.He returned a note explaining his condition, and telling her he’d be in touch as soon as possible. She did not reply, but a day later he received the most ridiculously overloaded fruit basket; and a gushing note from ‘Mrs. V. Bennet’, welcoming him to Singapore, wishing him a speedy recovery, and thanking him for paying attention to ‘my Dear Daughter Jane’. Jane Bennet, yes. He was forced to admit he’d lost all interest in the Blonde, since the appearance of the Other kind of Bennet; now, he found he much preferred the dark – haired type. Not that he was interested in Elizabeth Bennet, other than strictly professionally… Oh, no. Charles Bingley, however, justified everything his sister had said about him when a note from him arrived, covered in ink stains and blotted words. Darcy could make out the words ‘Jane Bennet’, no less than three times in four sentences (however, Bingley’s sentences were generally rather long), so he supposed Bingley still had an eye for her. Well, good luck to him, having Mrs. Bennet as a mother – in – law, thought Darcy, and felt a ridiculous amount of relief that Caroline’s mother was a silent, careful, widow, living in Wales.
Then one evening he felt so well he decided to get up the next day, and be on his merry way. The faster his business in Singapore could be concluded, the faster he could return home, to Pemberley and Georgiana. True, he did expect this trip to take two or three years, but a day saved was… a day saved. And he did want to see Miss Bennet again… to discuss business.
He was dreaming about doing business with Elizabeth Bennet when a feeling of Not Being Alone woke him up. Very unpleasant that, to wake up and find he was not alone in the bedroom. And then, the rapid emotions he experienced: first, fear of the intruder being a Person of Malicious Intent, then, relief when discovering the intruder was no one but cousin Richard, then, disappointment that cousin Richard wasn’t Elizabeth Bennet, like in his dream, oh, yes, just like in my dream, and finally fear again, as Darcy realised that it could just as well have been Miss Bingley.
“Richard!” Darcy sat up in bed. “What on earth are doing in my bedroom?”
“Hiding from Aunt Catherine.”
“Well go hide somewhere else, I want to sleep some more.”
“Sorry, I’m afraid that’s impossible, old chap. I need to talk to you urgently, couldn’t possibly do it in public, you know.”
Darcy, confused and disoriented as he was from being disturbed like this, lost his temper:
“Oh my God, Richard, I’m so tired of your little games! If you want to play the fool, that’s fine by me, and I’ll even go along with your CID – tales, but this is really too much! I don’t want you in my bedroom early in the morning, and I don’t want to hear more of your little intrigues!”
“Darcy?”
“Yes!”
“Shut up. No, I’m serious, shut up!”
Darcy closed his mouth. This was more like Richard, or actually, this was more like Richard’s brother, Ashley, that man had a furious temper inherited from his mother’s family, well the Carrington – Smythes always were a sad bunch, anyway it was more Richard than the dandy who’d met him that first day in Singapore.
“Good, I see that you can still do what I tell you – like when we were boys.”
“I only did what you said because your Mother told me to!”
“And you always were a Mother’s boy… No, don’t hit me, I didn’t…”
But it was too late. Darcy felt himself lost to blinding, instant, rage. Years and years of oppressed feelings, feelings of anger and injustice, admiration and the old eagerness to please an older cousin, arose, and Darcy manage to surprise Richard so that he succeeded in giving him a good, masculine ringer, clubbing his cousin to the floor.
“That was for calling me a Mother’s boy!” shouted Darcy, “and do let me know why I shouldn’t hand you one for waking me in the middle of the night, or for being a bully, or for letting me take all the blame for the frogs in Father’s study!”
He paused to draw breath, and caught Richard’s eye in the pale moonlight. They stared at one another, breathing heavily. Then, the ridiculous last remark hit them both, and they burst out laughing.
“I’d…” gasped Richard, “I’d… forgotten about the frogs!”
Darcy sputtered.
“Me too! I didn’t remember it at all until I said it!”
“Oh, man, I’m sorry… about the frogs.”
This released another burst of laughter, and the end of it found them, side by side, on the floor, backs leaning against Darcy’s bed.
“So,” said Darcy, sobering up, “what is this game you’re playing, Richard? You know, you’ve not written since, what, ‘97 or around then… I was so surprised at you turning up in Singapore, of all places.”
“Well,” Richard shrugged, “not really surprising; they needed a man in Singapore, and, because of Aunt Catherine, I had a perfectly good reason for being here… And I told you the truth, last time we met; I’m working for Army Intelligence, keeping an eye on, well, certain people.”
“Let me guess, If you told me, you’d have to kill me?”
Richard snorted.
“Nah… But I need you to appear casual when you meet these people – I know you, and your sense of honour… You’d look down your nose at them and refuse to deal.”
“Of course I would! Richard! I wouldn’t do business with a traitor to the Empire!”
“And so, I won’t tell you… Not that I have more than suspicions, at this point. I need evidence, cold truths, before I can nail the person or persons operating out of Singapore… Selling British secrets.”
“To the Germans?”
“Oh? Oh, right, I’d forgotten your interests in that country… Well, there appears to be more than one buyer, actually… I’ve been allowed to let you know His Majesty’s Government is very pleased with your efforts, you may interpret that any way you like.”
“My efforts? I’ve only just got off ship!”
Richard smiled.
“We know everything. Or, at least we want you to think that.”
“So much for free enterprise… Am I supposed to conduct my business for the Good of the Empire, then?”
Richard got up.
“All our subjects’ efforts lead to what you call ‘the Good of the Empire’, Darcy. Just look at it as whatever your, eh, ‘input’, the outcome will serve your country… as well as your wallet.”
“Your tongue is as sharp as ever, Richard.”
His cousin grinned, looking very boyish.
“Isn’t it – and for your peace of mind, I may tell you that your collaboration with a certain Elizabeth Bennet is viewed favourably.”
Darcy’s mouth fell open, and he scrambled to his feet.
“What about Miss Bennet? Richard!”
A grin, and his cousin disappeared out the door, leaving Darcy wide awake and gaping in the middle of his room.
Chapter Eight: Of Women And Motor – Cars
European Town, Singapore, May 1900
Man was not meant to get up this early, thought Darcy, annoyed.
The European Town was quiet at this hour, but Elizabeth Bennet had told him other parts of the sprawling city were fully awake by now, as fishermen and traders used the early mornings to sell their fresh wares. Darcy passed several Malay servants, on their way to the market.
The Gardiner Mansion, as it was known, turned out to be three white houses surrounded by a, for Singapore, large garden and a high fence, like all the villas in the European Town. Miss Bennet was waiting for him on the street.
She didn’t look at all tired.“Good morning, Mr. Darcy!” she called out in a cheerful voice. “We should have a lovely day ahead!”
“Miss Bennet. Yes, I’m sure it will be a pleasant drive.”
“Oh, I meant the weather! I’m afraid the road to Pura – Nee is dreadful, you see, you shan’t like it at all!”
“I’ll manage, Miss Bennet. …And how are your parents?”
And where is the carriage? Are we to stand here all morning?
“Now, Mr. Darcy, I can see you are impatient to be off, but Lao will be here any second. I have arranged for the best transport in the city!”
And then, there was a distant sound, approaching. Darcy frowned. Now, why does that noise make me think of London...?
Miss Bennet tugged at his sleeve.“You must be prepared to jump, Lao is afraid it might die if he halts it, so we’ll just make a dash for it.”
“Jump? What sort of a horse...?”
And then it hit him. It couldn’t be, though, not in Singapore, there was no way a...
A motor – car came around the corner and wound its way towards them. Lao was at the helm, looking, to Darcy, frightened. His lips were peeled back, to reveal two rows of bad teeth, in a parody of a smile, showing the man’s fear of certain Death... Wait, that wasn’t fear! That was... that was manic exhilaration! The man was enjoying himself!“Go on, Lao, we’ll hop on!” shouted Miss Bennet, and gathered her skirts around her knees, not that Darcy was looking, oh no... But her ankles were the finest he’d ever seen on a woman, and he suddenly felt all… hot and bothered.
“Just follow me, Mr. Darcy!” she shouted, and started running ahead of the motor – car.
He had no choice but to follow. When she was in pace with the vehicle, she leaned in to grab Lao’s hand, leaped like no woman should ever be seen leaping, and was on. Smothering her skirts, she twisted and looked around for him. Darcy, throwing caution to the winds, grabbed Lao’s hand and was soon onboard, and the motor – car once again drove in a fairly straight line. Miss Bennet smiled happily at him, and gave him a cap and goggles.
“Not too bad, eh?” she shouted over the noise of the engine, sounding for all the world like his cousin Richard after narrowly escaping a nasty tumble from a mean – spirited stallion at Matlock.
He gave her a shaky smile. She was a loon, a pretty but certified loon, and later, much, much later, he would realise that that was the precise moment he fell in love with her; a certain moment in Time; he fell in love as he was putting on his goggles.
The morning after the visit from Richard, Darcy had invited Miss Bennet to Raffles, and she had arrived with her Chinese manservant, Lao, in tow. Mrs. Reynolds, the Manager, had gone out of her way to make Elizabeth Bennet happy, but Miss Bennet would not explain why, apart from a simple ‘I gave her some help last year’. Lao turned out to be a silent man, in his fifties Darcy guessed, and he seemed very fond of his employer. When he did speak, very rarely, it was in a perfect English. An hour of haggling had taken place, and Miss Bennet had shown herself a skilled businesswoman, but then Darcy’d no doubts about that. He had remembered Wickham entering the Emporium, but she refused his offer of something refreshing, so he couldn’t see how she’d react to the Raffles bartender. Well, maybe Wickham was going to see one of the salesgirls – or maybe he just stopped at the Emporium to pick up some Belgian Chocolate. A very wealthy bartender, Mr. Wickham. Right.
Finally, Miss Bennet had told him where they would start their venture (she’d said our venture, making him a little nervous), and a date two days hence had been set, for the day – trip to Pura – Nee, a rubber plantation owned by a Mr. Hill.
“Mr. Hill, known to his fellow men as Dorian or ‘Dorry’, is one of the largest private rubber farmers in Singapore, Mr. Darcy. He’s also sold to Japan for the last twenty – odd years… And he’s married to a Japanese woman, too.”
At the last sentence, she looked up at him, gauging his reaction. Darcy, in general, had little trouble with a white farmer taking a wife of another race, but this information worried him.
“A Japanese wife… He shan’t deal with me then!”
“Mr. Darcy. Hill is a businessman, and whatever his ties to Japan, he is Singaporean first – meaning money is the key to his heart.”
She smiled at herself.
“I am too a Singaporean – my Mother tells me I’d sell her to the White Slave Trade, given a good enough price.”
“I’d think your father had first claims on who your mother belongs to!”
He’d meant it as a joke, but she didn’t smile.
“Sometimes, I think he wouldn’t care if I sold her to…” But she stopped herself, and exchanged a look with Lao Darcy couldn’t interpret. He did become more curious of the mysterious Mr. Bennet. What sort of man could have produced such a variety of daughters with that… vulgar woman?
But no matter; Miss Bennet was now talking about taking him to Pura – Nee, and Mr. Hill. And so she did.Chapter Nine: The Road To Pura – Nee
Well, almost to Pura – Nee, anyway.
The car, after an extremely uncomfortable ride over muddy roads that in Derbyshire would have been called “cow – paths”, a ride that took several taxing hours, by the way; taxing for Darcy at least, who was squeezed in next to Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her… her feminine person, anyway, the car decided to take over the job of driving itself. The wheel twisted out of Lao’s hands, made a full turn and steered against a tree.Darcy, seeing his End near, threw himself at Elizabeth Bennet, deciding she was worth the sacrifice. Elizabeth, meanwhile, threw herself at Lao, thus making sure he wouldn’t regain control of the car… Lao, burdened with two persons on his back, so to speak, threw himself out of the car, taking his passengers with him, and they all landed in an undignified heap on the side of the road.
The car wound its merry way to the tree, hit it, and died. After five seconds of absolute silence, all four wheels sighed and fell off.
“Oh, dear,” said Elizabeth Bennet.
“Oh, dear,” said Darcy, and decided to keep his arms around her waist, just in case.
“Oh, no!” said Lao, uncharacteristically. “We’re dead meat!”
He sounded just like Mr. Philips, the American who’d helped Darcy get to the Emporium.
“Eh… And why is that?” he asked carefully. Maybe Lao had gotten hit on his head.
“We’re ‘dead meat’, Mr. Darcy, and incidentally, you can let go of me now, …thank you, we’re dead meat because the car belongs to someone else.”
Elizabeth got up, and so did the men.
“May I ask who owns this motor – car, then?”
The two faces in front of him suddenly turned deep red. None of them would look him in the eye. Darcy winced.
“Anyone says ‘Catherine de Bourgh Lucas’ and I’m hitting something.”
“We’re not saying anything,” said Miss Bennet decisively, and grabbed Lao’s arm.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Elizabeth.”
She smiled.
“Hell of a jump, Lao.”
Darcy fumed. What sort of language is that for a woman? And why doesn’t she ask me how I am?
As if she could hear his thoughts, Miss Bennet turned to him.“I know you are fine, Mr. Darcy, so don’t be upset. After all, you are a client I’ve invested my money in, so to speak… I won’t let you come to any harm.”
She smiled, then, and if he didn’t have this warm feeling spreading in his chest he would have told her she behaved abominably. But that smile…
Lao and Elizabeth checked the car; Darcy prudently stood back, he’d no clue about the repair of motor – cars, and he didn’t want anything to do with the car if it indeed turned out to be his Aunt Catherine’s…
Meanwhile, Lao and Elizabeth were talking in low voices, occasionally glancing his way. What the…?
“What are the two of you planning now? Is it beyond repair?”
“Oh, no!” said Lao, and launched into an explanation of exactly what was wrong with the motor – car, and how it could be repaired. Watching his eager face, Darcy knew he’d found Lao’s weak spot…
“Ah, yes, I see, but how are we to repair it here in the middle of nowhere?”
Miss Bennet and Lao exchanged a look.
“Well… Lao knows a where he can get the things he need… But he’ll have to cross the jungle to get there.” Elizabeth pointed. “And I’m not dressed for that,” she was wearing a white dress, she usually did (and Darcy liked it as she reminded him of Crown Princess Alexandra, a lady he admired). “Nor are you dressed for a hike in the jungle, and…”
And I wouldn’t fare very well there, either. Thank you for not saying so, Miss Bennet.
“And frankly, Mr. Darcy, you wouldn’t make it.”
An awkward silence descended for a few moments.
“So we are to stay here?”
“No… Pura – Nee is only a two hour walk from here, and Mr. Hill is expecting us… We shall have to walk, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy looked down at the muddy road. At his nice suit, bought in Paris. At the cow – droppings littering the way. Sigh.
“…Let’s get going, Miss Bennet. No time like the present.”
This was actually how he meant to propose to Miss Bingley. Take her for a walk, say, if they’d been at her property in Hertfordshire, to that Oakham Mount where the view was spectacular.
This was after he’d settled things with Bingley, of course, and after he’d started to repair the roofs at Pemberley. Wouldn’t do to use her money for the roofs, no, there were so many holes (literally holes when it came to the West Wing) to be filled with his wife’s money…
He’d tell her about the Good Idea of uniting their families, outline their prospects, let her know that she, after having produced the heir and the spare, and repaired the West Wing, could have a Darcy House in London (the old one was sold) and then, satisfied with this excellent proposal, Miss Bingley would receive a chaste kiss and they’d return home to plan the wedding.But marrying Miss Bingley was not what was on his mind right now. Not at all. In fact, had he been asked about Miss Bingley’s first name right now, he’d not have been able to remember it. There was something about the smell of cow – droppings, a warm afternoon, mud, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet, that made his head quite empty of thought. Quite empty.
Especially when she smiled like that at him. Women with such a smile should be locked up – I’d better think of something else quickly… I’ll think of Richard Fitzwilliam.
Unfortunately, that made him think of Richard’s parting line that night; “I may tell you that your collaboration with a certain Elizabeth Bennet is viewed favourably.”
What did Richard know about Elizabeth Bennet? Better ask her.
“So… Do you know my cousin Fitzwilliam, Miss Bennet?”
She smiled instantly.
“Richard? Oh, yes! He’s a dear friend. You are lucky to have him for a cousin, Mr. Bennet.”
“I am? Oh, I mean, I am. Yes. Quite.”
“And a loyal soldier to the King, too,” she looked at him Significantly.
“Ahum, yes, you know about Richard’s little… hobby.”
“I wouldn’t, Mr. Darcy, call it a hobby,” her voice was a tad frosty.
He thought for a while.
“…So how many people know Richard’s business then?”
“Mr. Darcy!”
“Sorry.”
Silence.
“…And how is your sister, Jane?”
“Mr. Darcy!”
“Sorry.”
Silence.
“… I meant to ask you something, you see, the other day I saw someone enter the Emporium, and…”
“Mr. Darcy!”
“Sorry.”
Silence.
“I hear there will be a Ball soon, the Ladies’ Assembly, I seem to remember…
“Mr. Darcy!”
“Sorry.”
“Now we’re taking the shortcut over this tiny, slippery, path. Absolute silence is a requirement.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“…Mr. Darcy! Feel free to walk in front of me!”
Chapter Ten: Bargains And Lies
Darcy’s ideas of white houses sprawling in the midday – heat, a pleasant host offering drinks, a cool place in the shade… Was not to be.
Turned out, Mr. Hill lived in a low shack, and the only paint it sported was on the front door; it was a startling blue. Children and dogs escorted them up to the “house”, and all of them, including the puppies, seemed to know Elizabeth well. Darcy was mostly ignored, making him feel very uncomfortable and out of place.“Dorry” Hill turned out to be a man worn by sun and years; his face was weather – beaten and his hair was grey.
“Mr. Hill,” said Elizabeth as he came out on the porch, and gave the farmer a peculiar smile. Her outstretched hand was ignored, Mr. Hill instead turned to spit on the ground, narrowly missing some chickens.
What rudeness! I’ll give him… What? I can hardly knock him down… But then again, he insulted Elizabeth. I should…
Miss Bennet caught his eyes, and shook her head no. Oh, well, best to do what she said… Darcy’s relief at not having to knock him down was almost embarrassing.
“Mr. Hill, you’ll be glad to see I’ve brought you a client… A man, Mr. Hill.”
She pushed Darcy forward.
And indeed, that must have been the magic word. Hill looked up, and smiled at Darcy; a smile revealing teeth of the same quality as Lao’s. He grabbed Darcy’s hand in a firm, very firm, handshake.
“Delighted! Now, Mr…”
“Darcy, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“…Mr. Darcy, what can I do for you? And call me Dorry! How about some tea, eh?” A tanned arm sneaked around Darcy’s shoulders, and a strong smell of sweat wafted into his sensitive nostrils. Hill was pulling him to some chairs in the shadow, talking and pointing out sights, shouting at someone inside to ‘give us a cuppa’, occasionally giving Darcy a manly fist in his ribs, for good measure Darcy supposed. A panicked look behind him revealed Miss Bennet on her way inside the house.
Don’t leave me!
She merely winked at him – he was left to his own devises!
Singapore, Darcy knew by now, was full of loons; it attracted them like toms screeching in the night attract buckets of water and thrown shoes, and men like Richard Fitzwilliam and women like his Aunt Catherine listened to its alluring call and came in droves.
Or maybe it was just the fact that Dorry Hill was stuck on a rubber farm, with no men of his own kind to talk to, and lots of rainy days.
Darcy tried to smile as Hill launched a story about a tree looking just like… well it wasn’t decent, and certainly not Darcy’s kind of humour.He was relieved when the tea was drunk and Miss Bennet rejoined the men. Her arrival silenced Mr. Hill, and then he muttered:
“You’ll be wanting a look, I suppose,” and it wasn’t a question really.
So the three of them mounted horses that had seen better days, but they were of good stock nonetheless; someone had paid a good price for their parents, last Century. Elizabeth Bennet had an excellent seat, Darcy noted, truly a born horsewoman. She’d do me proud at Hunts in Derbyshire, he thought, and then told himself to stop thinking, if that was the kind of thoughts he was going to have… Miss Bingley would look nice on a grey mare, with her red hair. Yes. Yes, the future Mistress of Pemberley will have red hair and not laughing dark eyes! Certainly not laughing dark eyes. Certainly not.
Never had women (or rather, one woman) come so close to disturbing Fitzwilliam Darcy’s nose for a good deal as that day, however, Mr. Hill, despite his lousy sense of humour, turned out to be an interesting host when it came to rubber, and Darcy, educated in German factories, was told a great many things about Singaporean – style rubber farming. It was pleasing, to Darcy, who suddenly understood he could make himself a small fortune, provided he dealt with Mr. Hill the way one must deal with the Mr. Hills of this world. Only, my Encyclopaedia Britannica didn’t have this entry…
Miss Bennet’s Encyclopaedia did, it seemed, as she suddenly turned the conversation (Hill listened to her, but preferred to address his remarks to Darcy) to export, and in no time they were being treated to a long tale of woe regarding the tight – pursed Japanese. Throwing his accomplice a grateful look, Darcy interrupted.
“Mr. Hill, with all due respect, if you feel they are robbing you, why do you continue to trade with the Japanese?”
Hill froze, and looked darkly at Darcy.
“So, the time has come, has it? Oh, I had her”, a glance at Miss Bennet, “tell me why you were coming, before I agreed to see you; I know you have this scatter – brained notion of swinging Singaporean rubber sales towards Europe instead of Asia.”
Darcy forced himself into a relaxed pose, imitating his cousin Richard for all he could.
“Europe? Mr. Hill, Singapore is a member of His Majesty’s Empire… To sell to Japan could become an issue… in the future.”
Hill spat, angrily.
“That’s what I give for the Empire! Singapore has the paint, but like my door, she’s built on Malay grounds, Mr. Darcy… What matter England? Taxes, most of the time, a Governor like Lucas who bows to the SCBA, or what they call themselves, the Macao Chinese. Twenty years ago, no one back there wanted out rubber. We were on our knees, when the Japanese started buying – at our price, mind you, they could have set their own, putting us out of commission fast. England pissed in her own bathwater, you ask me!”
Hill drew breath. Elizabeth, luckily behind him, or the deal would have been ruined for sure, stopped nodding in agreement. Darcy kept cool.
“They did buy at your price, twenty years ago, Mr. Hill – trouble is, they are still buying at the same price… Now, there’s a mystery if ever I saw one: an industry with fixed prices, despite inflation – very, eh, ‘un – Singaporean’ of you, Mr. Hill.”
He couldn’t help himself: he looked over at Miss Bennet, and was almost knocked out by her dazzling smile. I must be doing something right…
Hill, on the other hand, wasn’t smiling.“There are also personal relations at stake, Mr. Darcy; the people I deal with are old friends. It wouldn’t do my reputation any good to break off old agreements.”
Darcy straightened, abandoning the relaxed pose. Now it was time for hard facts.
“Your reputation among the men of business can’t, with all due respect, be that high, Mr. Hill. Being a man of his word means a great deal; being a good business – man means a great deal too, to other businessmen. You are a bad businessman, Mr. Hill, and what’s more, you know you are one!”
Ah! The knife had entered, been twisted, and all Darcy had to do now was to gently remove it…
Mr. Hill’s angry face was slowly being replaced by what Darcy could call a calculating one, and he pursed his lips.
“Well, he’s got a mouth on him, hasn’t he?” he said to, surprisingly, Elizabeth.
And smiled.
“Keep talking, Mr. Darcy… I have some time to spare.”
His smile was mirrored by Darcy’s, and by Elizabeth Bennet’s grin. Darcy felt like taking his partner in his arms and shout, but instead he just stood there and smiled, letting the waves of relief and happiness hit him.
The ball is rolling… Pemberley might have it’s roofs, after all. And I’m sure I can make time to save the Empire too – I have two hands, after all…
© Copyright 2000 - 2001 held by the author
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