Darcy's Voyage: A Tale of Uncharted Love on the Open Seas (14 page)

“Those are delightful diversions.” He spoke the words softly, but the reaction Elizabeth had was almost as if he had screamed them.

Her eyes opened widely in an acute sense of stark realization.

Delightful diversions!
The very same words the gentleman in the carriage two years ago had said!

She stared into the darkness, the room flashing with light from the bolts of lightning outside, and she suddenly recalled the image of the man who, for several months after their encounter, never left her thoughts! Her heart tightened and she suddenly felt as if she could not catch her breath, tightly closing her eyes as she deliberated this disclosure.

Suddenly it all became very clear! She knew why he had seemed so familiar! Those fleeting memories that she could not pull to the surface since she first saw him on the ship were from that carriage ride, the gentleman sharing the ride with her, and the following months that held her captive to his memory.

He had uttered those exact words when, as a young, impetuous eighteen-year-old, she told him how she had recently climbed a tree and fallen from it, spraining her ankle. She had thought he was mocking her behaviour, but in the course of their time in the carriage, she found him to be quite engaging, very attentive, and effortlessly charming.

For weeks and months following the carriage ride, she found herself repeating those words at every opportunity as a reminder of her short time with him. “Mary is reading
Fordyce’s Sermons!
Delightful diversion for her!” or “Jane! Guess what! We are going to visit Aunt and Uncle Gardiner!” What a delightful diversion that shall be!

And when she and Jane would talk about life and love into the wee hours of the morning, Elizabeth could only talk of him. For months, she talked of her “Mr. Wright,” the man whose name was unknown to her, but seemed so right for her.

At length the memory of that day had faded. As months passed into years, she no longer was able to draw up an image of what the gentleman looked like, or what his voice sounded like that had been so pleasing to her ears.

Her thoughts assaulted her.
Could he really be the same man?
It was as if she suddenly remembered everything very clearly! It
was
him!
The man who visited her in her dreams in the past week was both Mr. Wright and Fitzwilliam Darcy! The same man!
She simply had no idea.

She hoped that he would not sense her discomposure. At least in the darkness of the room she could hide her face of shock and make a futile attempt to still her shaking fingers. At once, all those little episodes trying to recall a vague memory made sense—her colliding with Mr. Darcy that first day, feeling that she had been on the receiving end of this proud man’s praise once long ago. She took a deep breath as she tried to gather her thoughts.

She knew that now she would have an even greater struggle getting off this ship without him. If she could not forget the man with whom she only spent a couple of hours, how could she ever forget the man who had posed as her very own husband over the course of several weeks?

Elizabeth was rendered silent by this realization, and Darcy, receiving no further response from her, assumed she was in no mood to talk. Their conversation for the night ceased.

For several hours the storm continued mercilessly with wind, rain, and occasionally hail battering the ship. In the early morning hours, the storm gradually weakened, and Darcy and Elizabeth fell into a sound sleep. Darcy awoke a few hours later and discovered his arm still protectively wrapped around her. She had turned in the night and her head was snuggled deeply against his chest and her arm wrapped securely around his waist. He could only see her when the occasional flash of distant lightning lit the room. She was beautiful, and he found it exceedingly difficult to remove his eyes from her.

Her hair was splayed around his arm and he found himself anxiously waiting for each successive bolt of lightning off in the distance to light up the small cabin so he could better see her. How he wanted to comb his fingers through her hair, caress her face with his hand, kiss her lips.

Darcy lay very still, but his heart pounded mercilessly. When Elizabeth moved in her sleep and drew herself up against his chest, Darcy gave in to the temptation, leaned his head over, and gently kissed the top of her head, letting his lips linger there. He wanted to draw her into a fervent embrace, but that kiss would have to suffice for the time being. He lay there for some time, listening to every breath she took, sensitive to every slight movement she made, and breathing in the flowery scent of her hair from the toilet water she most likely sprinkled in it.

At length, the only way Darcy felt he could endure the prospect of spending the remainder of the night with Elizabeth in his arms, and remain the gentleman he promised he would be, was to think of her as his best friend’s sister. He forced a mental image to appear of the woman who grated his every nerve, tested his patience, and pushed the boundary of his civility. The only way he found to deal with this temptation was to imagine that she was Caroline Bingley! Never before had he thought so much about that annoying woman! At length he fell asleep.

As the sun began to peek up over the horizon through the scattered clouds that were remaining from the storm, Elizabeth awoke. She had been in the middle of a dream. In the dream she had been up on the top deck of the ship and a fierce storm was raging, much like the one that night. One of the masts had broken and crashed down over her, the sails from the mast and yardarm falling atop her. She was sure that no one knew she was trapped under them, and felt frantic, unable to move… unable to scream.

When at last she awoke, it took her a moment to realize where she was and that it had only been a dream. Her mind gradually cleared and she recalled how she and Mr. Darcy had come to sleep on the floor that night. Darcy was next to her. She could tell by his heavy, steady breathing that he was sound asleep. She also came to realize that the masts that were lying across her in her dream were actually his leg that was draped across her leg and his arm that was slung over her. The sails that had entrapped her in that dream were the blankets that she was wrapped in.

Her head was buried deep within his chest and she not only recognized the constant rhythm of his breathing but could also hear and feel the steady pulse of his heartbeat. She lay there quietly, so as not to awaken him.

As more light began to seep into the room, she pulled herself away slowly and looked at his sleeping face. Something about watching him sleep halted her. While asleep, he appeared very vulnerable and unassuming. He had a very pleasing countenance that she only wished could permeate his features more often while awake. Normally fastidious about his looks, he now lay with his curly hair dishevelled. She thought how much more unpretentious he appeared. Here was a man with a large fortune, and yet as she looked at him, she felt that at this moment, he was purely flesh and bones as she, and his fortune meant no more to him than her lack of fortune meant to her. Finally, here was a man who normally put on a mask of pride, and yet now that mask had fallen away, and he was as innocent as a baby.

She thought how attractive he looked in this state. No airs, no pride, nothing to recommend him. She could easily fall in love with someone like that.

She steadily watched his face, and without even thinking, her hand went up and pushed aside an unruly strand of curly hair that had fallen across it. As soon as she let it go, it fell back down. In doing this, another thought came to her. Darcy was a man who took meticulous care in his appearance. She was aware of how he worked to get his hair in place, often with fruitless results once he went up on deck and the wind whipped through it. His dress was always immaculate, and he was of exceptional height and build. All these things inevitably drew attention to him.

That was it! That was what she could not figure out that first night she saw him in the dining area. His fashionable dress, exceedingly handsome looks, and tall stature all commanded attention; yet that was the very thing he loathed!

Elizabeth had to keep herself from chuckling aloud. He most likely considered his good looks a curse because of the attention they drew to him—attention he did not want. When he planted himself against a wall or a window, he hoped to disappear. If he was just anybody, he would have succeeded without too much notice or idle speculation. But due to the very nature of the man, it simply drew more attention to himself; attention that misinterpreted his actions as prideful.

Elizabeth closed her eyes with this thought, as she savoured the novelty of lying in his arms. She did not want the night to end and, for the very first time, began to fear what it would mean to them when the ship docked. As she dwelled on these thoughts, she noticed him begin to stir.

She closed her eyes so he would not see her watching him if he awoke. She was surprised when his arm closed around her more tightly, securing her against him. She could barely breathe, and suddenly felt ill at ease that if he should awaken, he should not find them tangled as they were. She tried to pull away carefully so as not to awaken him, when suddenly he spoke. “Lie still, Caroline, you are safe in my arms.”

Elizabeth gasped in a sharp breath as he spoke these words. She lifted her eyes to his face. He did not appear to be awake, but his words pierced through her and she felt a real sharpness of pain. She had never once considered that he might have a woman back in England waiting for him. How foolish she had been to entertain thoughts about this man, when from the start, he made it clear that their marriage would be annulled and forgotten once he returned.

She grabbed her pillow and blanket, pulling herself away with little attempt to be careful not to awaken him. Once that was accomplished, she climbed into her own bed.

She closed her eyes, her body trembling, whether from her strenuous effort to pull herself away from him or her feelings for him that were now so overpowering she was not sure how she would endure one more day. As she turned her head to the wall and closed her eyes, she felt them swell with tears and one slowly escaped down her cheek.

Darcy opened his eyes, awakening when he became aware of Elizabeth leaving his side. He looked over to her as she returned to her own bed. He was grateful to see it was Elizabeth, as he had just been suffering in a dream where his wife for the journey had been Caroline Bingley and he had the arduous task of comforting her in a storm!

Looking back at Elizabeth, he was disappointed that she left his side, but if she had remained, it would have been exceedingly difficult to maintain even a modicum of restraint. The storm outside had ceased, but another storm had taken hold in his heart.

Darcy lay quietly absorbed in thought for almost an hour after Elizabeth left his side, unable to keep from thinking about this captivating lady.

A soft, hopeless moan escaped him. How did this happen? How did she do this? Was it with some sort of feminine allurement that she had set out from the beginning to entrap him?

He thought back to those months after the carriage ride when he had first met her. He had not been able to get her out of his mind. Now, he had just spent a month with her, posing as her husband, living within the close confines of their small cabin, and he was supposed to forget her when they got off this ship? He knew there was very little chance of it. She expected him to return to England and annul this marriage when he, in all truthfulness, wished to keep it intact! In a frustrated sigh that deepened into a yawn, he stretched out his arms and began to sit up.

He grimaced in pain as he had forgotten about his sore shoulder and brought up his other hand to briskly rub it. He looked over at Elizabeth, who was still sleeping soundly in her bed. She was facing the wall, so he could only see her hair flowing down her back. He sat up and leaned against his bed, keeping a watchful eye on the sleeping maiden. Due to the storm, last night they had never put up the sheet separating their two beds, and he enjoyed the sight of Elizabeth as he gazed upon her sleeping form.

As he worked out his stiff muscles, he thought of those first few nights on the ship when she had to sleep on the floor in steerage. How did she do it? He did not think he would have been able to, as he had been pampered and spoiled all his life. She was not afraid to step out of the comfort of her world, something that he personally found exceedingly difficult!

Now he was faced with stepping into a discomfort of another kind. He knew that today would demand that he address his feelings. Today, before they reached shore, he would somehow manage to convey to her his love and admiration. He felt his chest constricting and his pulse racing just at the prospect of it.

His thoughts went back to the previous night and how Elizabeth had so graciously and selflessly tended to him. From there his thoughts carried him to their lying together during the storm, and then awaking to find her nuzzled close against him.

These recollections were most pleasant indeed, but he was seriously displeased with himself. Why did he have such fierce reactions to the thought of speaking those words to her that would clearly express his sentiment and intent?
Why is the mere thought of that so difficult for me?
He could be articulate about a great number of subjects. He and Elizabeth shared deep, meaningful conversations. So why did the prospect of articulating his emotions leave him feeling so inadequate and vulnerable?

He longed to sit here watching her endlessly, but he knew he must get up and leave the room, as she would want to arise in privacy. With a few quick adjustments to the clothing in which he had slept, he prepared to go aloft. He knew how
he
had weathered the storm; now he was curious how the ship fared.

He quietly opened the door, turning back to look one last time at Elizabeth. Then he closed it behind him.

His first stop was down the long hall to the dining area. When he came upon it, he was stunned to find some windows had broken out and water had flooded the room. Some of the tables and benches had broken loose and were now in a chaotic heap. One of the crewmen advised him that the dining area would be inaccessible until they got things cleaned up and repaired.

Slowly he walked to the deck, and as he came up, he deeply breathed in the fresh air laced with the scent of a recent rain.

He could immediately tell that the storm had waged a war with the ship last night, but in his novice opinion, it appeared as though the ship had won. He noticed several of the crew mending sails and repairing broken yardarms. For the most part, the ship had endured satisfactorily. Several men were vigorously mopping down the deck, ridding it of the excessive water. He was grateful the ship had a good crew who all seemed to know exactly what needed to be done. It was good to see that firsthand. His ship was in excellent hands.

He inquired of the whereabouts of the captain and was told that he had retreated to his cabin as soon as morning broke and he was able to assess the damage. He remained on deck throughout the night and was likely getting some rest now. By the looks of the deck, it would not be a good morning to walk, as rigging, sails, and various pieces of equipment were strewn about and sailors were attempting to make amends. The topsail, gallant sail, and a few smaller sails had been unfurled and the ship was moving along nicely. Darcy inquired as to their bearings.

“We won’t be arriving in the New World today as we hoped. We got pushed too far off course last night,” answered one of the sailors. “We are currently farther south and east than where we need to be. Prob’ly be making land early in the morning if we are lucky.”

Darcy sighed. Another night aboard the ship. That gave him a little more time to formulate the words he wanted to say to Elizabeth, along with the decision whether to acknowledge his feelings today or wait until tomorrow. Darcy took in a deep breath as he contemplated what to do.

Since he could not walk easily on deck nor go into the dining area, all he could do now was return to their room. He knocked lightly and heard a soft, “Come in.”

Walking in, he found Elizabeth sitting at the dresser brushing out her hair. She had changed from the dress she had slept in, and looked surprised to see him.

Darcy felt awkward returning before she was ready, and offered an apology. “It is quite a mess up there, Elizabeth. It would be too difficult for us to attempt to walk this morning, and even the dining room is unfit for passengers until they get some work done in there.” He walked over to the small bench and sat down.

From where he sat, he could watch Elizabeth brush out her hair, but she could not see him. He watched as she slowly and repeatedly brought the brush down through her thick, dark length of hair. Having only seen it down a couple of times, but never having had the pleasure of watching her brush it, he could not take his eyes off of her. As she deftly lifted its length up and easily pinned it into a very becoming style, Darcy was mesmerized by the sight, and noticed particularly how graceful her neckline was when she lifted her hair. The urge to walk over and gently kiss it was overpowering.

As she sat there brushing out her hair, she had been doing a great deal of contemplation about this man whom she discovered last night was her “Mr. Wright.” Those two years had probably changed him in some degree, but it was most likely in her mind that he had changed. She reasoned that the greatest factor in not recognizing him was that after she had carried about the thought of this man for months and months, even giving him a name by which to refer to him, she eventually knew she must put aside this girlish infatuation and forget about him. It was a struggle that she had a difficult time conquering, but at length, after considerable willpower and effort, she let her “Mr. Wright” go, determined to grow up and set her mind on more attainable aspirations in the area of prospective suitors.

That did not make the realization any easier. Her thoughts since awakening were mixed with the staggering recollection of his whispering the name “Caroline” as he held her in the night, and Elizabeth felt that any conversation with him today would be a struggle for her. A struggle because her heart was aching to love him and be loved by him, and because they would be arriving shortly in America and go their separate ways.

The silence between them was deafening to her ears. She struggled for anything to say. “Are we to see land shortly, do you think?” Her stomach tightened in a knot as she asked this.

“Not today, at least. The crew tells me that the storm pushed us off course. Hopefully we will reach land early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth turned back to the mirror. The tightening and tenseness grew worse as she heard his word “hopefully.” He looked forward to moving on.

Perhaps that was what she needed. Once they had gone their separate ways it might be easier. In one way she wanted it over with. Perhaps when he was out of her sight and out of her presence, she would be able to put him out of her heart and mind. But if her former association with him was any indication, she would likely not forget him any time soon.

As Elizabeth turned her attention back to making some final adjustments with her hair, Darcy pondered again, for perhaps what was close to the hundredth time, what he should say to her, how he should say it, and when. Each time he even considered it, each time he would feel the impulse to begin, his heart would beat rapidly and he would feel a shortness of breath. He did not enjoy this feeling at all, as it was something he seldom experienced. He finally resorted to picking up his book to read, deciding he would attempt this later. He simply did not have the capacity at the moment.

As things up on deck were mopped down, cleaned up, and cleared away, people began congregating in the dining room again. Everyone needed to share their experiences from the night before, and Elizabeth found that many in steerage had been terribly frightened and exceedingly seasick. The conditions down there had been dreadfully terrifying. The savage tossing of the ship, coupled with the complete darkness and crowded conditions, produced a night most would not soon forget. She went down to see if she could help, and for her own peace of mind ended up spending most of the day down there away from Darcy.

Having a good amount of time to himself that day, Darcy put that time to use reflecting on what had been the greatest struggle of his personal life in deciding to preserve his marriage to Elizabeth. As he again began applying himself to further thought about what he would say to her, the formulation of any coherent, sensible, moving sentiment was proving to become his second greatest struggle.

There was also the underlying fear of what she would say. He would be going expressly against the conditions he had set forth and that she had agreed to.
And what of this Mr. Wright?
Was he someone she had an understanding with back home?
The thought had gnawed at him intermittently since that night she spoke the name.

All these thoughts converged upon him. Did he even have the right to do this?

He did not think he would be able to live with himself if he did not. He would tell her tonight. The fact that the decision was made gave him a great peace. The prospect of doing it did not.

***

That evening, as anticipation again mounted that they would be drawing close to the American shore, most everyone gathered in the dining area for a final night together of conversation, reminiscing about the voyage, and a gathering of cards and games. Mr. and Mrs. Jennings pleaded with the Darcys to join them as a foursome at cards for this last night. Elizabeth looked at Darcy, who surprised her in every respect by saying he would be happy to.

The four settled into a spirited, and very competitive—at least between the two men—game of cards. Elizabeth was surprised to notice a more relaxed demeanour and openness in Darcy’s behaviour. A few times he made some humorous comments, and once he even laughed without restraint. Her heart ached in believing him to be feeling a bit more relief in that he was bound to her but one more day.

The activities in the room were lively, most everyone feeling a great sense of anticipation that the morning would bring a new life for them; a better life. An occasional strong wave that lifted the boat and sent hands scrambling to hold things down reminded them also that they had all weathered the storm together with little lasting damage.

When they were in the heat of their final round, Jennings leaned back in his chair, commented to Darcy on how well he was playing, and seemed to get a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

At length he said, “Darcy, I do believe marriage agrees with you.”

Darcy’s eyes had been glued intently on his cards, and he tensed before lifting them slowly to Jennings. He could do nothing to prevent his gaze from subsequently travelling over to Elizabeth, who was looking down at her cards with a blush that had overtaken her features.

Darcy did not respond except for a somewhat forced smile. Elizabeth made every attempt to disguise the discomfort she felt and hoped that would be the end of the conversation. It was not to be.

“But then, you have certainly found yourself a lovely wife.”

Darcy saw Elizabeth’s eyes slightly close as she took in a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she still did not bring them up.

“Yes, that she is.” He said it softly, all the while keeping his eyes on Elizabeth. Darcy played a card, hoping to keep the game on track, and the hand went around.

When it came to Jennings’s turn, he began to pull up a card and then paused. “You know, Darcy, when I heard that the two of you were getting married after knowing each other for such a short amount of time, I had my doubts. I was very sceptical of whether such a marriage was prudent.” He pulled out a card from his hand and laid it on the table. “But I must confess you have proven me wrong. The two of you certainly seem well suited for each other!”

That Elizabeth could barely concentrate on the game was expected, but when she saw that Darcy had played a completely worthless card and had uncharacteristically given the trick to Jennings, she realized he was just as troubled by this line of conversation as she was. Her emotions roiled within her. She finally mustered the courage to look up at Darcy’s face, which had discomfort written all across it as well. He had been rendered silent by this man, so she decided she must speak up.

“Mr. Jennings, I believe what makes a marriage successful is when the two partners completely agree on the direction they expect the marriage to go, know what each one wants out of it, and what each one is willing to give. Fitzwilliam and I are in complete agreement about this marriage in all those aspects. Is that not correct, Fitzwilliam?”

Darcy met the look of challenge in Elizabeth’s eyes with a look of resignation in his. He had determined to enjoy Elizabeth’s presence tonight and approach her later about keeping their marriage intact. With these words, she was essentially reaffirming the arrangement they made almost a month ago.