Darcy's Voyage: A Tale of Uncharted Love on the Open Seas (12 page)

When she stepped out, she found Darcy with his arms resting on the side of the ship, his gaze looking out across the water. He had come here to think, to sort out the thoughts that had continued to swarm in his head about Elizabeth. His thoughts went back to the image of her that morning as she climbed out from behind the sheet, to the feel of her in his arms as he consoled her and how it felt so right. As much as he wanted to concede that she was everything he had ever wanted in a woman, a deeper, more practical voice argued that she was not.

What he had done in arranging this façade of a marriage had certainly been a great help to her. But in the long run, could he really seriously consider her as Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley?
What would others think?
he repeatedly asked himself.
What obligations do I have to my name? To my family?
He wondered if he did take her back as his wife whether she would be accepted by his circle of society, and that question gnawed away at him in a way that he could not reconcile.

Darcy closed his eyes to that thought. As much as he hated to admit it, he had to think about what others, especially his family, would think. He had to consider his elevated position, her much lower position, and the expectations to marry someone in his sphere. His mind was miles away when Elizabeth came up to him.

They walked in silence that morning. Darcy could not summon up any words, and Elizabeth was too filled with grief to talk.

As Darcy and Elizabeth made their way up on deck for Mrs. Trimble’s service, she willingly slipped her hand into Darcy’s extended arm, knowing she would need his strength to get through. People stood or sat on the few available benches, and Elizabeth was grateful they had come up a little early so she could stand close to the captain and hear what he had to say.

The captain began the service reading a passage from the Bible and then opening in prayer. Standing off to the captain’s side, Elizabeth bowed her head deeply. Darcy lowered his head but kept his gaze upon Elizabeth, enjoying her closeness. He then chided himself for being so distracted by her presence when he should be focused on the captain’s words. At length he closed his eyes as he heard the captain close with an “Amen.”

Elizabeth saw that Mrs. Trimble’s body had been put in a white canvas bag of sorts. About halfway through the service, when a brief eulogy was spoken with what little information had been gathered about her life, Elizabeth suddenly realized what was about to transpire. Darcy knew the moment she realized that Mrs. Trimble’s body would be let out into the sea, as she tightened up, tears filled up her eyes again, and she gripped Darcy’s arm more tightly.

Even the prior realization of what was to transpire was not enough to prepare Elizabeth for it. When the sailors lifted the bag and sent it over the edge to sink into the depths of the sea as the captain prayed, Elizabeth turned to Darcy, trying to stifle her sobs. His arms reached around her and drew her more deeply into his chest. They did not move for the longest time, even as everyone slowly began to disperse, and Elizabeth wished that he would never let her go.

After the service, Elizabeth desired some time by herself in their room. Darcy obliged her request and spent most of the day in the dining area where people had gathered and much of the conversation was about Mrs. Trimble. There was also much praise for Elizabeth, which he received graciously.

Feeling a little better but not yet ready to venture out and visit, Elizabeth pulled out the needlework sampler she had begun earlier in the voyage. She felt the healing effect of each embroidery stitch as a few flowers and words appeared by her own doing. She was working on it when Darcy returned.

He sat down, wishing there was something he could do to engage her spirits. He never knew what to do when Georgiana was feeling down, and he felt the same awkwardness with Elizabeth. He nervously tapped his fingers on the table, bringing a smile to Elizabeth.

“Mr. Darcy, you do not need to stay here with me. I am feeling improved.”

Feeling a sense of disappointment that she still chose to address him with such formality, he responded, “I do not mind being here with you, as long as you do not mind.” He sat down across the table from her.

Elizabeth looked at him and saw a tenderness she had never before seen. “Thank you.” She wondered at his behaviour at times. She had to remind herself continually that their marriage was a pretence, but there were times when her husband played the caring, concerned, even loving husband all too well. It was those times when his behaviour had her most confused.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Elizabeth shrugged. “It just seemed so sudden, so definite.” She put her needlework down and looked up at him. “It is not that Mrs. Trimble was really that close to me, but that I had been seeing her almost every day for some time now. I have never had anyone close to me die before. At least that I can remember.”

“You are fortunate. I have lost both my mother and my father.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened at this personal disclosure. “I am so sorry.” She was surprised that he had not mentioned that fact before, and she impulsively reached out her hand to place it on his in a comforting gesture. When he looked down upon it resting on his hand, she hesitantly pulled it back.

“So it is just you and your sister?” she managed to ask, nervously tightening her withdrawing hand into a fist.

“And a few odd relatives.” He looked back at her hand, almost willing it to return atop of his.

Elizabeth laughed. “I have a few odd relatives myself.”

Darcy smiled, grateful that she was not so despondent that she could not laugh. Elizabeth was suddenly struck by how attractive he was when he smiled. She mused to herself that she would like to see him smile more often.

Then Darcy said something quite unusual. “I have one cousin, a younger cousin, who actually prefers walking to riding. Can you imagine?” He seemed intent to watch her, waiting for her response.

“I most certainly can! I prefer that myself!”

Darcy’s heart leaped as Elizabeth continued. “I actually have never felt safe around horses. I merely try to keep my distance if I can.”

She laughed as she wondered why he would consider this an odd trait, and continued, “And Mr. Darcy, if this is the extreme of your odd relatives, I would gladly trade any of my odd relatives for yours!”

He was drawn to her fine eyes when she laughed and felt himself becoming more and more lost in the depths of them. It was especially difficult now, being fairly confident that Elizabeth was the one in the carriage who so briefly captured his heart two years prior.

With this confirming revelation and the amount of time he had spent with Elizabeth, he found it difficult to hold firmly to his resolve to keep his distance emotionally from her. He began to wonder whether it was prudent to remain in the room with her.

Elizabeth expected Darcy to make a retort about her fear of horses, but he remained silent, an odd expression on his face.

She wondered whether he regretted sharing personal things about his family. She decided to keep things light-hearted. “Although my father is most definitely a gentleman in every sense of the word, his humour can sometimes be sarcastic and teasing. My mother has her sole objective in life to marry off all her daughters, and my younger sisters are all very silly, indeed.”

Darcy smiled, not being able to take his eyes off her. She returned his gaze curiously. She could not entertain any serious notion that it was out of admiration, and could only construe that it was because he was experiencing uneasiness due to the personal nature of their conversation. They remained silent for a time as Elizabeth turned her attention back to her needlework.

“What is that you are employing your time with there?” he struggled to ask.

“A needlework sampler.” She turned it around for him to see. “It is not much. It will be surrounded with flowers and script.”

He looked at it and read the words that she had begun to form with a steady line of stitches. “Think only of the past…”

“Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”

“Is this your philosophy in life?”

Elizabeth nodded. “It is one. I actually have several.”

Darcy began to wonder how she would look upon her time on this ship; how she would look upon
him
when this was all in the past. Would she be able to consider him with any pleasure?

“You are fortunate if you can truly live by it.” He looked down in reflection. “I have a very unyielding temper. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever.”

“That is unfortunate, indeed. I pity anyone who may have wronged you.”

Darcy looked at her with an odd expression on his face, as if he were recalling some particular person who had hurt him in the past.

He stood up and walked over to her, lifting the sampler from her. She grew somewhat unsettled as his tall, close presence and attention stirred those feelings again in her that she knew not how to counter. The satisfaction it gave her, however, left her feeling that she did not want to counter it.

An unspoken mutual admiration and respect drew them closer that day. As the last days of the ship’s journey were upon them, Darcy knew he was faced with making a decision regarding Elizabeth that, if dependent solely upon his feelings and, even now, his intellect, would be easy to make.

His feelings he had no control over. They had grown stronger just from being in her presence, enjoying her company. He believed she enjoyed his as well, although he had to admit that she seemed to enjoy the company of most people on this ship. His intellect was stimulated by conversations he had with her that gave evidence of her own intellect and liveliness.

But the deeper recesses of his being still demanded he think beyond his personal partiality and consider how she would, or would not, be accepted by his whole circle of family and acquaintances. Surely there would be those who would graciously accept any woman he deemed worthy of his hand. But there would be others who would go out of their way to make life unbearable for him and her alike.

He lay awake those last few nights on the ship, listening to the sound of her breathing, and he tossed and turned as the battle waged even more fiercely. He struggled for that which was so close to him, yet so far.

He knew himself too well to know that once he had it settled in his mind, he would adamantly set forth to attain that which he so greatly desired. He knew it would put him in an awkward position with Elizabeth if she did not return similar leanings of her heart toward him. If he approached her with his strong feelings of regard and she did not return them, she would most likely no longer feel comfortable sharing the room with him, but that would be comparatively minor compared to the anguish he would suffer. At length he determined he would have to wait until they were just upon American soil. He knew, however, where the inclinations of his heart lay.

Elizabeth, unaware of his struggle, tried not to look ahead at what lay before her. She put aside all thoughts about their inevitable parting, and daily strove to enjoy their time together. They got along exceedingly well, apart from her stubborn nature that tended to clash fiercely with the authoritative streak he possessed. Although she was not a woman who easily retreated from obstacles she faced in life, she would never consider pressuring Mr. Darcy to go against his original intent to annul the marriage and retain her as his wife. She was all too aware, although she did not agree with, the irrational obligations those in the first circles of society placed on the position of the person they married.

With these thoughts and feelings surrounding Darcy and Elizabeth, the last few days of the voyage passed with camaraderie, and before they knew it, they found themselves facing the fact that it was their last day upon the ship. They would be reaching America sometime the following day.

On the final day of sailing before arriving in America, the winds picked up and clouds began to form. They had previously passed through several storms along the course of this voyage, but none had been too severe. The captain could tell this storm was different, and he began taking precautions well before the storm hit.

The first thing that became noticeable to everyone was the increase in the size of the swells, causing the ship to be tossed severely to and fro. As passengers gathered in the dining room, anticipating their final evening of revelry, they had to keep a firmer grip on their cups of tea and coffee, their plates of food, and utensils. Revelry soon turned into a struggle to maintain order.

The captain knew they were heading straight into the storm, as the storms came off the east coast of America. He had heard many tales of vicious ones that spun ships around and ripped them to pieces.

Although the sun had not yet set, an eerie darkness settled over the ship. Lightning flashed around them and the winds picked up fiercely. The crew scrambled to furl the sails to prevent the ship from being blown over by the forceful gale.

At sunset, the storm hit with fury. Festivities were abruptly cancelled, and everyone was ordered to their rooms as rain began to pour down in torrents. What was earlier thought to be a savage tossing of the ship proved to be nothing compared to what they now experienced.

When Darcy helped Elizabeth return to the room, as it was exceedingly difficult to even walk, she watched in utter frustration as Darcy pulled out a coat and began to put it on.

“What are you planning on doing?”

“I am going out there to see if there is anything I can do!”

“Are you a fool? You could get yourself killed up there!”

“Elizabeth, I cannot just sit here, knowing that the ship could break apart at any minute! You stay here!”

He opened the door and slammed it behind him as the boat encountered a swell that tipped it precariously on its side.

“William, please, no!”

Elizabeth grasped for something to hold on to as she cried out for him to stay. Her voice was lost in the crashing of the waves against the boat. She was left alone to ponder in anger why this man insisted on doing such a thing as to venture out into the storm when the captain and crew were most capable of handling things. Who did he think he was?

As her mind unwillingly became engaged with the worst scenarios of what might befall them due to the intensity of the storm, she was gripped with fear.

The ship made a sudden, violent lurch to the side and Elizabeth was harshly flailed against the wall. She frantically tried to grasp hold of the table to keep from falling. She then leaned against the table to secure her own balance as the ship swayed in the opposite direction. It returned to its upright position only for the briefest moment, and then continued its tremulous tilting. The ship tossed as if it was in the hands of a mighty, relentless force, and its pitching was increasing in intensity by the minute.

She stubbornly refused to let her fear get the best of her and consequently decided to do something. She determined her first course of action must be to stow away and secure everything that was susceptible to falling down, toppling over, or scooting precariously across the floor.

She worked quickly, fighting against her fear and the savage tossing of the ship, quickly and adeptly stowing everything that was not secured. The ship swayed one moment from one side to the other, and then would rise up from the front as it encountered a swell head-on and then come crashing down again. Her heart pounded as the realization swept through her of what a storm like this could do to a ship.