Darcy's Voyage: A Tale of Uncharted Love on the Open Seas (13 page)

When she had secured all she could, she made the decision that it would be best for her to stay low to the floor. She felt that even trying to secure herself in the narrow bed for the night would be fruitless due to the extent of the ship’s unremitting tossing. She knew she could easily be thrown from the bed onto the floor. She took her pillow and propped herself against a wall, bringing her knees up and grasping hold tightly with her arms. She whispered a silent prayer that the ship would remain intact and all onboard would remain safe.

Her thoughts and prayers dwelt particularly on Darcy and his safety.

What a fool he is!
her thoughts repeatedly echoed. Why must he always insist in being in control of a situation, when it is not even his place to worry? She let out a frustrated sigh and a cry heavenward for his safety.

Elizabeth sat still, keeping her eyes on the door, hoping and praying that Darcy would return. After what seemed an eternity of waiting and imagining every horrible thing, it finally opened and a very wet Darcy stomped in.

“The captain says it looks to be quite a severe storm!” He had to compete with the thunderous resonance to be heard. Pulling off his coat as it left puddles of water on the floor, he informed Elizabeth, “He has all hands on deck and they have furled all the sails. There is as much water coming from the swells over the sides of the ship as there is rain coming down from the heavens! It is going to be a long night.”

A tremendous sense of relief had washed over her when he walked in, causing her to close her eyes in a quick, prayerful “thank you.” But it was tempered with residual anger toward his foolish stubbornness. She knew there would be no benefit in expressing her anger now. “Does the captain appear concerned?” she asked.

“The captain says not to worry, but we need to stow everything that is not secured or it will come crashing down.” Taking a quick glance around the room, he said, “Oh, I see you have done that already.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He hung up his coat on a rack and raked his hand through his wet hair. His coat had kept out some of the water, but his shirt was soaked in places.

Elizabeth made her way over to the dresser and secured a towel, handing it to him. “You should get out of your wet clothes.”

Darcy looked at her and nodded. “That is something I plan to do.” He took the towel and briskly rubbed down his hair, removing the excess water. “It would have been better for me up there if I had had an oilskin coat. That is what the crew all wear in a storm such as this, and it really helps them keep somewhat dry.” He walked over to the small closet, and as he did, the ship made a sudden lurch to the left, propelling him off balance and sending him against the table, his shoulder going right into its edge. With a moan, he grabbed his shoulder with his other hand, and promptly slid himself down to the floor.

“The other thing the captain said is to stay as low to the floor as possible.” He grimaced painfully. “I now see that is a wise idea.”

“Are you hurt?” Elizabeth asked as the ship rose and fell mercilessly.

He vigorously rubbed his shoulder and replied, “I do not think it is fatal.”

Elizabeth smiled as she realized he was trying to be light-hearted with his last remark, possibly to help ease her fears. He continued, “I shall most likely be sore for a few days, that is all.” He sat on the floor, continuing to rub his injured shoulder, and soon made another attempt to retrieve a dry shirt. When he reached out the arm with the injured shoulder, he withdrew it back in pain. “Ohhh!” His hand immediately went up to rub it again.

“You are not all right,” Elizabeth said as she reached him. “Let me help you.” She easily took hold of the dry shirt he had been attempting to reach and then turned to look at him. “Can you unfasten your shirt?” she asked.

He tried to untie his neckcloth with his unhurt hand, using his injured arm as little as possible. Elizabeth watched with the expectation that she would help if he needed her assistance, although in this area she wondered whether her fingers would be a help or a hindrance to him as they had begun to shake nervously. As he began to undo the buttons to his shirt, she forced herself to look away.

As much as she would have liked to approach this circumstance in a very practical, unemotional way, her heart’s pounding and her rising tide of feelings began to overpower her. That he was hurt almost made him more vulnerable, more desirable. She suddenly felt that she would be very happy taking care of this man until they were old and grey. But she halted that thought immediately, knowing it would not do any good to think about things that were not to be.

As her thoughts were engaged in this direction, Darcy attempted to remove his shirt, and Elizabeth was stirred from her reverie by another groan of pain from him. The pain in his arm was such that he could not manoeuvre the shirt down off his arms, and he looked helplessly at Elizabeth.

“I am sorry, but I do not seem able to accomplish this. My arm is causing me a great deal of pain.”

Elizabeth positioned herself behind him and calmly responded, “Drop both of your arms down by your side.” When he did so, she gently took the shirt by the collar, her fingers lightly brushing his neck, and brought it down along his long arms and slid it off. She was glad she was situated behind him, as this simple action and the sight of him shirtless from the back caused some unexplainable stirrings within her and a very noticeable blush across her face.

She quickly fumbled for the dry shirt and lowered the sleeve so he could easily move his hurt arm into it, and then she brought it around and he was able to slide his other arm into it as well without any problem.

Darcy felt her breath on the back of him, and the very slight touch of her fingers upon his neck produced an involuntary shiver. When she slid his shirt off, he thought how different it was to have a woman do the same task that Durnham had done throughout the years. He enjoyed this much more than he should have allowed himself to.

Once the dry shirt was on, he quickly reached up with his good arm and nimbly began buttoning the buttons one-handed. An awkward silence had enveloped them, and his jaw tightened as he considered that Elizabeth must feel exceedingly uncomfortable.

“Thank you for your help, Elizabeth. I would not have wished to cause you any uneasiness.”

He spoke softly and with much gratitude.

Elizabeth drew herself around from behind. “I only did what I knew I must.”

She sat aside him, marvelling at the goodwill that had come to exist between them in just the last week. The ship suddenly tipped again violently, and she fell against him, causing him to reach out for her with his good arm, and he planted his sore arm against the floor for stability.

Another groan escaped him, and Elizabeth apologized profusely. “Mr. Darcy, I am so sorry.”

He looked down at her, not wanting to let her go. “Elizabeth, do you not think we have been through enough together, that even when we are alone you can call me by my given name?”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and blushed. When she found herself unexpectedly wanting to draw nearer to him, she became more intent on reverting to formalities in addressing him.

“Mr. Darcy, we are almost at the end of our voyage. I think it best we keep things between us as we agreed.” He was still holding her when she met his eyes. “Our marriage is on paper only.”

Darcy sighed softly and released her. His idea to marry her solely for the duration of the voyage had indeed caused him greater consternation than if he had allowed himself to be tormented this past month by all the single women, their mothers, and their fathers, and all the other matchmakers and fortune hunters onboard this ship. He had fallen in love with Elizabeth, and it was clear that she did not love him in return.
On paper only
. That was certainly not how he felt toward her now.

Mustering all the strength he had to keep from succumbing to the storm of emotions that were erupting within, he calmly and deliberately spoke. “The captain said it would be wise to sleep on the floor, as a storm such as this will even throw one out of bed. We need to bring the bedding down to the floor for the night.” He looked around the room, much as Elizabeth had done earlier.

“There is not much room…” He looked over to the space between the two beds. “This is probably the best place for us to sleep tonight. There really is not any other room on the floor.” He tried to control his voice to sound calm, rational, and not at all ruffled, which was not at all what he was feeling. “With the dresser drawers underneath the bed, that will give us some stability from the rocking and keep us from sliding all over the floor.”

Elizabeth looked over to the small area. It was certainly long enough for them to stretch out in, but suddenly it seemed very narrow. “Yes, it seems to be the wisest,” she reluctantly agreed.

Darcy looked at her and recognized the look of discomfort written across her face. “Perhaps it would be best if I sleep over there. I could easily sit against the wall behind the table… if you prefer.”

“No, no,” she stammered. “I could not allow you to do that. We are both adults.” How she wished she did not sound so nervous. Then, in almost a whisper she added, “We are, after all, married.”

Darcy’s chest suddenly constricted and his jaw tightened as he heard her speak those words so dispassionately. He looked into her eyes and saw the pain.
Does she really regret this marriage that much?
he asked himself. “There is not much more we can do. We might as well try to make ourselves as comfortable as we can.”

As the ship continued its relentless rocking, they both began to pull the blankets off their beds. There was room for only one mattress on the floor, and Darcy pulled it off of his bed. Elizabeth pulled two blankets off her bed, one to go underneath her and one to cover her. She scooted as closely as she could to the dresser on her side, and lay her head down on her pillow. The room was dark now, except for the frequent flashes of lightning that ripped across the sky, lighting up the room through the tiny window. There seemed little likelihood of them falling asleep any time soon, with the clamouring of the forces of nature outside as well as in. The rumble of the thunder, the howling wind, and the crashing of the waves against and over the boat seemed to take their toll on the ship in addition to their nerves, as did the rising tide of their feelings.

Earlier, Elizabeth’s fear had propelled her to do something. She had tried to secure everything that was not bolted down so it would not fall over or come crashing down. Then she had set her mind on helping Darcy after he hurt himself. But now, as there was nothing to do but listen to the tumultuous sounds and feel the assault on the ship as it laboured and strained, her fear began to spiral, as the storm seemed to be intensely overpowering and growing in severity by the minute. With each pitch of the ship, Elizabeth grabbed either the mattress, the dresser, or the floor itself, hoping it would keep her in her place.

But as the ship rocked and swayed, as it creaked and groaned, there was little either could do to keep themselves settled in one place. More often than not, Elizabeth either slid into Darcy as the boat tipped his way, or he slid into her when it tipped the other way. The worst of it occurred when the boat encountered a wave head-on. The fore of the ship would rise up, and then come crashing down violently.

There was little chance that they could grow accustomed to the constant swaying, dipping, and crashing down, but they lay there together, each consumed by their own thoughts and feelings. At one sudden, very strong jolt of the ship, Elizabeth cried out as she was pelted against Darcy. He immediately wrapped his arm around her, driven by a protective instinct, but he let it remain there out of a selfish desire to feel her in his arms.

She lay there still, suddenly feeling very safe in his arms. The thunderous beating of her heart competed with the sounds of the storm outside. Whether it was simply fear or the fact that she was now being held tightly in his arms, she was not sure. But she had this very strong assurance that while in his arms, no harm would befall her.

Despite her overwhelming sense of fear, she became aware of some other feelings that were awakening within her. It was more than just a sense of being protected by this man. There was a yearning inside her to draw closer to him. A stirring within that she had never experienced. She wished to be able to turn toward him and bury her head in his chest. She closed her eyes tightly, wishing away these thoughts and feelings. He was not really hers to think about. Her regard toward him that had been growing these last few days could never be reciprocated. She took in a deep breath to steady the overwhelming feeling of despair that began to overtake her. But it was not enough to prevent a tear from escaping her eye and travelling down her face.

She had two pictures in her mind, and neither of them was at all pleasant or desirable. The first was that the ship would not make it through the storm this night and they would all perish, being lost at sea. The second was that they would make it through the storm, and once the ship pulled into the harbour in America and they left the ship, she would never see him again. As the ship violently rose and fell, the thought came to her that perhaps she wished for the former. For in that case, they would at least be in each other’s arms for eternity.

All the while, Darcy closed his eyes as he considered how right it felt to have his arm wrapped around Elizabeth. If it were not for the extremely dangerous and trying conditions they were in, and the violent rocking and swaying of the ship, he knew he was in danger of another kind; that is, overstepping his bounds with her and breaking the agreement they made for the conditions of this marriage. He was not sure how he would survive an entire night with Elizabeth by his side, without struggling with the temptation she presented.

After lying awkwardly in silence, stirred both by heightened feelings in the midst of the storm waging outside and in, Darcy attempted to engage Elizabeth in conversation, if nothing more than to take his mind off her discomfiting proximity, since neither of them would be able to sleep anyway.

“Did you ever finish your sampler, Elizabeth?”

“Why, yes, I did.” She lifted her head and looked around as if she suddenly realized that she did not know where it was, even though in the darkness she would not have seen it.

“I should like to see it now that it is finished.”

Elizabeth smiled, knowing this was a very meagre, but appreciated, attempt to keep her mind off the storm.

Attempting to keep their minds engaged on other things, he asked, “And may I inquire what other accomplishments you employ while you are not sailing across the oceans of the world?”

Another round of violent swells delayed her answer, as she gripped tightly to him, but she smiled. “You know I enjoy reading, I do a little sewing, enjoy singing, and play the pianoforte, but very ill indeed.”