MAES 28: No Sort of Pis Aller
AN: Like Jack, I too was somewhat worried about Stephen’s offer of marriage finally being accepted by Diana. The whole time I was reading Surgeon’s Mate, I kept thinking, ‘so when’s she going to run off and break his heart again?’ When the exact opposite happened my opinion of Diana rose appreciably: before then, I thought of her as a heartless woman who played with men’s affections, and was only brought down to a humbler level by a man showing her what it felt like to be treated that way. She wasn’t only that of course, and I was curious as to what changes must have taken place in her character for her to wish to marry Stephen, and to make her want to know he was marrying her from love.
“She wishes to leave him and to leave America. I have proposed she should marry me…”
Jack thought it better to make no remark on Stephen’s offer of marriage, though his consternation was plain enough to a perceptive eye…
-Fortune of War, pg. 255, Norton Press paperback
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“What is a pis aller?”
“What one accepts when one can do no better. It is my only hope.”
-Post Captain, pg. 351, Norton Press paperback
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He had felt a good many miseries in his time, but none to be compared to this cold vacancy within. His observation of her had confirmed his suspicions of the day before and provided reasons for the first instinctive feeling. He did not love Diana Villiers any more, and it was death to him.
-Fortune of War, pg. 225, Norton Press paperback
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“But surely,” she cried, “surely such a fine woman cannot throw herself away on a mere surgeon?”
In a decided voice, but not unkindly, he said, “No woman that I have ever met could throw herself away on Stephen Maturin…”
-Surgeon’s Mate, pg. 53, Norton Press paperback
No Sort of Pis Aller :Part 1
In the gloom of the Temple Prison, Jack Aubrey lay awake, his mind engrossed in unhappy thoughts.
He could hear Jagiello snoring softly in the other room, the only one with a window, waiting for the dawn when he would begin again to serenade the lovely girl across the way. Jack had lain down revolving plans in his mind for what exactly it would be safe to ask her for, and what she was likely to be able to provide them with. But his mind had not stayed on this topic for long.
Perhaps it was the result of witnessing a budding - if hopeless - romance of sorts, but his mind had been on an unlikely romance of quite another sort for some months now. It was often put aside, but never entirely forgotten.
He turned his head to look at Stephen Maturin, asleep on the other side of the room.
Ever since he had learned that Stephen had proposed marriage to Diana Villiers, and had at last been accepted, he had been in a state of near constant worry for his friend. Perhaps if the circumstances had been different, he would not have been so concerned, but as far as he understood the matter, Stephen had only proposed marriage to help make Diana a British citizen again, and she had only accepted because that was what she wanted.
Jack had seen the not-so-desirable results of many a marriage of convenience before: often, the pair were very unhappy with each other, and regretted the circumstances that had led them to the altar. Would that happen to Stephen? He had little doubt that if Diana found herself unhappy, she would be the sort of woman who would go her own way without a second thought: philandering and affairs were hardly anathema to her. And what would that do to poor Stephen? Jack had no doubt Stephen would be faithful to her, in spite of whatever infidelities Diana might commit, no matter how miserable it made him.
That was what he feared the most, he supposed. That Diana would keep making Stephen miserable after their marriage, as she always had before. He could recall so easily, as though they were scenes from a nightmare, the expression on Stephen’s face when Diana had been cruel to him, either by design or mere carelessness. Stephen, for all he pretended otherwise, was a sensitive man with a vulnerable heart, and one could easily wound him without ever intending to, as Jack knew from experience. And Diana, in spite of what good points she may possess, had always seemed to Jack to be an unusually hard woman.
If marriage between equals could be a source of great happiness, what would marriage between a man who had such a low opinion of himself and a woman who would likely always believe she had married down provide to its participants? Jack might personally feel that no woman could marry down by marrying his friend, but he admitted he was quite biased in this opinion, whereas Diana had been - for lack of a politer term - the consort of rich and influential men. Stephen was quite out of the ordinary for her.
What other reason could she have to agree to marry him, other than her own end of regaining her citizenship? True, she had not seemed as harsh to Stephen since they had met her again in America, but was that merely a ploy, kept up only until she had her nationality back? Yet Stephen too had been different in his behavior toward her. He had seemed gloomier, even regretful. Was it possible that his own feelings toward Diana were not what they once were, that he had gotten over his obsession at last? If so, Jack thought, perhaps it was all to the better: the less control Diana had over Stephen, the less likely she could use that control to break him further.
Jack did not like thinking so ill of anyone, yet in this case he couldn’t help it. Try as he might to silence these doubts, they kept popping up in his mind, and caused him much distress on his friend’s behalf.
On the other side of the room, Stephen shifted in his bed and rolled over until he faced Jack, rather than the wall. Jack knew his friend was a light sleeper, and often had difficulty sleeping an entire night through. Sure enough, Stephen’s eyes opened and he looked blearily at Jack.
“Why are you still awake?” He mumbled.
Perhaps it was the setting, perhaps the feeling that in this quiet night in a dreaded prison anything could be said without causing offense, for their surroundings created a sense of closeness that was rarely there, but Jack spoke the exact truth:
“I’m very worried about you.”
Stephen blinked in surprise, and seemed to wake up a little more. “Why, so? It is true they may wish to question me but I have little fear of-”
“That’s not what I meant,” Jack tossed off his blanket and sat up. “I’m worried about your marrying Diana.”
Stephen’s face went blank, masklike. He too sat upright, directly across from Jack. They stared at each other in silence for several long moments. Jack hoped that Stephen could see him well enough to realize his expression was concerned. Perhaps he could, for Stephen said softly, “Why would you be worried?”
Jack sighed and ran a hand over his unkempt hair. “Do you really mean to marry her, Stephen?”
“Yes, I do.”
Jack met his eyes again and asked the question bluntly. “But you do not love her anymore, do you? Not as you once did.”
At that, Stephen flinched and looked away. “No, Jack, I do not.”
Jack too looked elsewhere, trying to muster his own thoughts. “I have to ask you, Stephen: I see that you wish to protect and help her, that you want to restore her nationality but - forgive me, brother but is that really enough reason to marry? To be married only because of an offer you made to protect her from a threat looming over her head does not seem like a - a very solid foundation for a happy marriage.”
Stephen nodded, as though in agreement. “Yes, those were indeed the reasons I gave her to marry me, and she agreed.”
Jack’s ear caught the word ‘reasons’ and he said sharply, “And such reasons - safety, protection - may be enough for many women to agree to marry a man, but is it enough for you to marry her for those reasons? Are you truly willing to sacrifice the chance of someday marrying another woman whom you love and who loves you, merely to protect a woman who is only marrying you because she has to in order to avoid criminal prosecution?”
Stephen sighed. “You’re forgetting, Jack. Diana’s citizenship will be restored as soon as she says ‘I do.’ It will not be revoked even if the marriage were to end later on.”
Jack stared at him, stunned. “You expect her to divorce you?”
Stephen shrugged. “If that is what she wishes, I will not fight it. As you guessed, I do not love her as I once did, and I think it would take much to make me love her again. Yet I care for her enough to wish not to see her unhappy, and she would be unhappy if she were arrested, as she would be unhappy being married to a man whom she does not love either.”
“But does she not love you, even a little? You did rescue her, after all.”
Stephen gave him a grim smile. “Now that is a question, isn’t it? No, I am certain she doesn’t. I think she likes me a little better now that she’s passed through the experiences she has at the hands of other men. Being treated like a possession to be cast off as soon as something better comes along, as happened with Johnson, did perhaps give her a taste of her own medicine, and I cannot say I am truly sorry for that, for she seems to have a little less contempt for me now. But love? That’s not even a part of why many people marry each other, not women like her anyway. She sees such arrangements in the practical, not the romantic view.”
Jack considered this. “And if she does not wish to divorce you? You say she is practical, and she may wish to stay married to you for practical reasons. As a married woman, she would have the respectability that state offers, as well as the security of a home and a certain standing among others. But as I recall, you offered these things to her once before, when you first asked her to marry you years ago, and she found the prospect so unappealing that she…ran off. Do you think her feelings have changed enough that she would welcome being your wife, rather than scorn such a state? And if she does stay with you, do you think that you might come to love each other in time?”
Stephen raised his head at this, as though the thought had not occurred to him before. “Perhaps; if it chances so I would certainly not object if there came to be at least a fondness between us, but I should not look for it.”
Jack paused a long time before saying hesitantly, “Sophie and I, in many ways we are still strangers to each other. All married people are, to some extent I believe. But we suit well together, and we know each other as well as people can, for the years we have spent married. I love her, Stephen, and I know she loves me.”
“I know.”
“You deserve that, Stephen. You deserve someone who loves you as much as you love her, and even if you and Diana do come to love each other, I still don’t like the thought of you being married to a woman who will always believe that she married down. I believe you’ve said yourself that in some respects, you two are a poor match, and Diana views the world through the lens of society in many things. She may not have a high standing herself at present, but you know as well as I do what people will see when they look at the two of you together: a lovely woman married to a mere naval surgeon. And anyone who doesn’t know you as well as I do will think it a horrid mismatch, and believe that she is the one who deserves better, and not the other way about.”
“That is a problem isn’t it? But the truth is she would be marrying down, whatever you may say.” Stephen replied dully. “You yourself have said that a village reputation - or the judgment of a ship’s company - is rarely wrong. If most people see us as a mismatch, it is likely so.”
Jack reached across the narrow divide between them, and clasped Stephen’s hand. When he was sure he had his friend’s full attention, he said in a tone as firm and final as he could make it, “There’s no woman alive who by marrying you would be marrying down. Village reputations may be damned!”
Stephen smiled warmly, and gripped Jack’s hand in return. Jack thought his eyes glimmered more than usual as he replied, “I’m glad that you feel that way about me, but that doesn’t mean I think you’re right in such an assessment.”
Jack forced a smile. “I know, and that’s what breaks my heart, Stephen: that you would believe that if Diana agreed to stay married to you, it is she who would be doing you a favor.”
Stephen did not reply to this. He sat in silence for a long while, still as a statue. Then he suddenly barked a short laugh. “Years ago I told Sophie that my best hope for Diana was to become her pis aller. She asked me what it meant and I told her: it is what one accepts when one can do no better. At long last, that may become the truth. Diana is certainly weary of being a kept woman, and I am the only man she knows who is willing to marry her to restore her citizenship. Still, at least this way I have something she wants, and she is not marrying me from weary resignation alone.”
Jack stared in frank astonishment. “You truly believe that, don’t you? You honestly believe that…No Stephen, no! Nothing could be further from the truth! You-” he couldn’t find the words for his distress. He stared at the floor and shook his head. Deciding to say it as simply as possible, he said hopelessly, “You shouldn’t be anybody’s pis aller. And you will not be hers, say what you may. She may think she can do no better than you, and in a way she’s right, because there is no one better than you, my brother.”
Stephen put a hand beneath Jack’s chin and raised his head. “If she could see me through your eyes, and love me as unconditionally as you do, I could easily love her again,” Stephen said, his voice unsteady. “But I doubt it possible for her to value anyone so much. I know that the one thing she loves and values most in the world is in fact a thing, and not a person. At present, I cannot even compete with a gemstone in her affections, and I must accept that. But I suppose that’s only fair: although I do care for her, I do not love her as I once did, and even if I do come to love her again, I do not think she will ever be first in my affections, as far as people go. She may become the woman I love the most, but so long as you are there, Jack, she can never be the person I love the most. That place has long been held by you, and it would take much to change that.”
0~0
‘Natural philosophers,’ cried the colonel at last. ‘Natural philosophers my arse: who ever heard of half Golconda being offered for the release of a natural philosopher, which is all he says he is? A hundred thousand louis. Balls. Of course he is a spy.’
-The Surgeon’s Mate, pg. 375, Norton Press paperback
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Golconda meant great wealth: who could conceivably have offered ‘half Golconda’ for his release?... There was no one he knew in Paris who could do so. No one apart from Arliss, his colleague in intelligence, who controlled far greater amounts; but such conduct on Arliss’s part would be unthinkable - it would be against the cardinal laws of intelligence. None of his colleagues would do so, he was certain; not only would it be entirely against the laws of the service but it was also against those of common sense - an offer dangerous to the proposer, mortal to the beneficiary…Half Golconda, any fraction of Golconda, was an open confession of his value and his guilt.
-The Surgeon’s Mate, pg. 379, Norton Press paperback
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He had been wrong about Diana, for example: he had never in his heart believed her capable of love. Of friendship, surely, of fondness and even quite strong affection at times; but never love, above all not for him. Yet now there was the proof in the form of this glorious, loving, hare-brained action. He knew she valued that bauble above her salvation: and even more than that, she had put her head into a noose for him. He felt a great wave of gratitude and admiration warm his heart, and when once again Jack broke in, pacing across the room with the Chronicle open in his hand, Stephen looked up with an extraordinary serenity in his face.
-The Surgeon’s Mate, pg. 386, Norton Press paperback
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‘Can Dr. Maturin explain how it came about that a lady should offer the equivalent of at least a million for his release, if neither he nor she is a political agent?”
Stephen at once replied, ‘Can the gentlemen possibly conceive of any political agent yet weaned capable of such enormous folly, mortal to himself and to his colleague?’
They looked at one another. ‘Then what is the explanation?’ asked a captain.
‘Only an insufferable coxcomb could reply,’ said Stephen.
‘Is it possible that the lady, such a lady, could be enamored of Dr. Maturin’s person?’ cried an officer - the first honest, sincere amazement that had been heard in that room.
‘It is improbable, I must confess,’ said Stephen. ‘But you are to consider, that both Europa and Pasiphae loved a bull; and that history teems with even less eligible companions.’
They were pondering upon this; the atmosphere was almost relaxed; and Stephen had received veiled looks of wondering respect…
-The Surgeon’s Mate, pg. 389, Norton Press paperback
0~0
At the Hotel de la Mothe, Diana anxiously awaited Stephen’s arrival. She had received word from her host that her bribe had done its purpose, and Stephen had been freed, along with Jack and their other companion.
She knew perfectly well why she was so nervous: the news of Stephen’s imprisonment had reached her weeks before, and it had shocked her worse than anything else in her life. Until that moment, her feelings toward Stephen were much what they had always been, if tempered with gratitude and a greater affection than she had ever allowed herself to show a man who did not shower her with gifts. It was only when she realized there was a very real chance that she might lose him forever did she know the depth and truth of her own feelings for him.
Years before, she had once ridiculed Sophie for not knowing her own heart in regards to Jack Aubrey until all chance of their marrying seemed lost. Such a fool she had been, to judge from the outside! But, she reasoned, there was a distinct difference: before Jack, Sophie had never been in love, and so could not perhaps have been expected to recognize such feelings. Diana had been in love before, which is how she knew that she felt much different toward Stephen than she had towards her first husband, Charles.
Charles Villiers had been dashing, debonair, reckless, and as hot-tempered as she was. Their times spent together were of the sort that caused hearts to beat faster and imagine themselves in love. What she felt toward Stephen was a calmer sort of passion: a deep affection and a desire to protect, and a simple friendly liking. She was not ‘in love’ as she had been before, but really she thought that all for the best. Her first passion had flamed hot, and so had seemed all the colder in its dying embers. What she felt for Stephen could better be described as warm, not an extreme in any way, but safe, steady, and reliable.
Before, when Stephen had first asked her to marry him, she had not been ready for such a union. Since then, she had been tempered by her experiences, and the fire no longer burned so hot in herself that she demanded the sort of man she had always insisted on before. Stephen, she reasoned, was now the perfect match for who she had become. He would give her his name, her citizenship, the respectability of the marriage state, and security. In return, she would give him companionship, the benefit of having someone look after him and never let him leave the house badly dressed, and perhaps a child. And in time, it was possible that real love could grow between them.
She did not love him in the way that she had loved her first husband, but that was all right. She knew he had loved her for a long while, and she believed he still did love her when he had proposed to her the second time which was also good: she was sick and tired of being tied to men who did not actually love her. But doubt soon began to creep in: whenever he spoke of marriage between them after that, he always reminded her that it was the only way to restore her as a British citizen, and it had not taken her long to begin wondering if that was the only reason he was doing this. Did he not love her anymore? Did he see this merely as a marriage of necessity? She had waited in vain for some sign of greater affection in him, and it had not come.
When she had miscarried, Dr. Badelocque had given her some medicine for the pain that she feared had made her lose control of herself for a while, for when she recovered, Badelocque had spoken to her quite seriously on topics she could not remember ever discussing with him before.
“Of course he is treating it like a marriage of convenience,” the Frenchman had told her firmly. “In all your past experiences, you have treated him as though he meant little to you. Now he is in a position where you have reason to want to marry him for purely practical reasons, and he makes the offer. Of course he is not going to bare his heart to you at the same time, and risk you hurting him all over again! If you want to know whether or not he loves you, then I believe it will be up to you to show him that he runs no risk in telling you so. Find some way to prove to him that his affections are not misplaced, and that you yourself do not see this as merely a marriage of convenience. Then you may find out if he does not as well.”
She had considered this for a long while as she lay in bed recovering, and eventually had to admit to herself that Badelocque was probably right: Stephen would have little desire to give her yet another chance to ridicule him and his feelings, and she blushed and even wept a little as she recalled her former behavior to him.
But now the grand gesture had been made: she had given up her treasure, the Blue Peter, the only thing of value she had managed to salvage from her time with Johnson, and she had purchased Stephen’s freedom by doing so. He would have been told what she had done for him, and she imagined their reunion over and over again, wondering if his voice would shake when he told her he loved her. If he did, she could reply honestly enough, for she did love him, if not in the exact way she had loved other men.
A carriage entered the courtyard where she stood, and she felt her heart beating. This was it: she would finally find out if he was marrying her out of love, or merely to do her a favor. If it was the latter, she must refuse him. Never again would she be tied to a man who did not love her.
Stephen leapt out and limped up to her, she running to meet him; they kissed and he said, ‘Dearest Diana, how profoundly I thank you: but I have cost you the Blue Peter.’
‘Oh how happy I am to see you,’ she said, holding his arm. ‘Be damned to the necklace: you will be my diamond.’ Then, ‘Stephen, you have torn your stocking - your leg is all covered with blood.’…
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As they were trying on their coats Stephen said, ‘Listen, Jack, you must know that Diana gave her great diamond to a minister’s wife for our release.’
‘Did she, by God?’ cried Jack, motionless, one arm in his sleeve. ‘Handsome - damn my soul if that ain’t handsome. But Stephen, she was so pleased and proud of it - nothing finer in the tower - a king’s ransom - how can I thank her? She was always a thoroughbred, but this…Sophie will be so eternally grateful: so am I, upon my sacred honor, so am I.’ He ran into the high gaunt echoing room where breakfast stood on a trestle-table, seized her in his powerful grasp, kissed her heartily on either cheek and said, ‘Cousin Diana, I am so grateful. I am proud, oh so proud, to call you kin, as proud as Lucifer, upon my soul. God bless you, my dear.’
-The Surgeon’s mate, pg. 400, Norton Press paperback
0~0
In the cabin Diana said, ‘Stephen, dear, how can you possibly expect any woman to marry you when you present it as a mere matter of expediency? As something forced upon her?”
‘I only said that Johnson was in Paris, that the English ports are closed against you as an enemy alien, and that you had no choice,’ said Stephen, looking miserable, confused, and upset. ‘I have been trying to get that into your thick head this hour at least, Villiers.’
‘There, there you go again,’ cried Diana. ‘Surely you must know, surely you must feel that any woman, even a woman as battered as I am, must look for something more - more, what shall I say? - more romantic in an offer of marriage? Even if I were to marry you, which is totally inconceivable, I should never, never do so after such a grovelling, such an utterly mundane and business-like proposal. It is a question of common good manners, or ordinary civility. Really Maturin, I wonder at you.’
‘Yet indeed, Diana, I love you dearly,’ said Stephen in a dejected tone, looking down.
-The Surgeon’s Mate, pg. 405, Norton Press paperback
Diana smiled in triumph. There it was: the declaration, the words, the confession she had been trying to get him to say since before they stepped on board the ship. For such an intelligent man, he really could be remarkably obtuse, she thought. But then her smile faded. Had he really been so silly as to not know what he should say, or had that been fear keeping him silent? Had he been afraid that she would reject him, that she would turn him away as she always had before?
She sighed. If that was the case, she could hardly blame him for doing so. He had not looked up since he’d last spoken, and his posture, hunched like that in his seat, was one she recognized: it had always been assumed by him right before she snapped at him.
She sat next to him and took his hand. “Well, I’m glad to know it, my dear,” she said gently, patting his hand. “For a long while I was afraid you were only marrying me out of a sense of obligation, you see, wanting to help me become a paper Briton again. If that were the case, I would just as soon have asked one of the men on board ship to marry me, then had the marriage annulled as soon as possible. But I am glad to know that you love me still, for that makes things quite different. Of course I will marry you now. I am very fond of you, do you see, and I think we shall suit well together, if we choose to. I am ready to be comfortable with life, and I’ve always felt comfortable with you.”
Stephen half-smiled. “Have I become your pis aller at last then?”
Diana looked at him, startled. She understood the term, and its implications confused her at first, but then made her blush with shame. He would think that, wouldn’t he? She abruptly realized that she was not the only one here who needed the words along with the actions: Stephen had rescued her, and told her that he loved her; she had rescued him, but not said the words herself.
Yet the words seemed to be not quite right in this case. Considering his last comment, she leaned forward, kissed him lightly, and said simply, “You are no sort of pis aller to me, Maturin. I am not settling for less with you, and that is the first time in my life I can honestly say that. Everyone else was what came from ‘settling.’ You -” she considered her words. “You, my dear, are what comes from striving.”
Then, ignoring the tears that suddenly welled in his eyes she leaned forward again, closed her eyes, and kissed him firmly, thinking: If I cannot learn to truly love this man someday, it will be through no fault of his own.