Darcy's Voyage: A Tale of Uncharted Love on the Open Seas (16 page)

Darcy dug his fingers through his hair as he stared at the empty room. She must have regretted the fact that he had kissed her. Perhaps he had frightened her with this bold, impulsive action, and she felt she could no longer trust him to spend this last night in the room with him. He shook his head as his breathing deepened with distress. He began to pace about the room again, trying to decide what his course of action ought to be.

He reasoned that when she returned to the room, she must have quickly packed her things. She most likely returned to steerage to spend the last night there. He closed his eyes as his fist slammed down against the wall.
Why did I overstep my bounds? What have I done? Why did I give in to my impulses before I declared my intentions?

He could not go down to steerage now. It was too late. He would have to wait until morning. They had been told that the ship would reach the coast sometime in the early morning and remain off shore until the first light, when it would enter the harbour. He would get up early and find her. He would tell her then that he loved her and wanted to keep their marriage intact.

As he looked around the room, despairing at the thought that she was gone, his eyes lit on something on the floor off in the corner. He walked over toward it and picked it up. It was the sampler Elizabeth had been working on and had finished over the course of the voyage.

He fingered the stitches and his heart ached as he read the verse on it. “Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.” Would he be able to look upon this voyage with pleasurable memories or would they eternally plague him with pain and regret? Tomorrow morning would be crucial in answering that.

Filled with remorse and distress that spread throughout the depths of him, Darcy disconsolately walked over to the dresser and pulled out a small case, opened it, and removed a decanter of brandy. He pulled out a goblet from the same case and filled it with the golden liquid. He twirled the goblet and watched it as the liquid swirled around inside. He needed something to calm his unsteady nerves, ease his pain and anxiety, and give him a sense of boldness so that tomorrow he would be able to stand before her and declare his love.

He would speak those words again tomorrow morning before they left the ship. He took a sip and savoured the burning as it went down his throat. With each sip, his heart became a little less erratic, a little less sensitive to the pain and anxiety he was feeling, and he became a little bolder in anticipating his declaration to her when the new day had come.

After downing the contents in the goblet, he poured another glass, wishing to drown those aching and exposed feelings that continued to torment him. At length he put his head down onto the table, feeling the soothing, numbing, and emboldening effects, and fell into a sound, alcohol-induced sleep.

Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes and it took a few moments to grasp where she was. Her eyes were sore and most likely bloodshot from the tears she shed throughout the night. Her body ached from having slept on the floor all night. She had forgotten what it had been like that first week in steerage sleeping on the floor. But she had not gone down to steerage. She did not think she could bear unwanted questions and speculations.

Instead, she had quickly and secretively slipped into the linens room. She stretched out her limbs, rubbed her eyes, and then threw off the blanket that covered her. With anguish and regret threatening to overwhelm her, she thought back to the events of the previous evening.

***

She had been quite disconcerted that the captain observed her and Darcy kissing, and reproaching herself that she had shamelessly encouraged it, abruptly left Darcy to return to their room. She hastened down the stairs, her heart refused to give up its incessant pounding. To keep her hands from shaking, she grasped them tightly together, rubbing her fingers raw. But every so often she would gently reach up and touch her lips with her fingers. She could still feel the gentle touch of his lips on hers; a kiss that she then unabashedly and foolishly encouraged to build into a fervently deep and passionate kiss.

She closed her eyes in contrition, tossing—as did the ship last night—between remorse for allowing the kiss and pleasure at having experienced it. He must have seen her look of longing when she was thrown against him and looked up into his face. She blushed with shame, as she wondered what had prompted her to draw her arms up and around his back and cling to him as if in immeasurable desperation.

As she entered their room, she sat down on her bed, wondering how she would face him and what she would say to him when he returned.

She dropped her head into her hands.
What must he think of me?

She wondered whether he thought she was now expecting something from him beyond what he had stipulated in his proposal. Did he think she had been attempting to entice him to fulfil his duty as her husband on this final night solely to hold him to their vows? Did he think she was hoping to benefit from a marriage to a man of his means even though it began as a charade?

She violently shook her head as these thoughts continued to plague and torment her. She recollected his words when he pulled away. He did not finish what he was trying to say, but he did not have to. Elizabeth could see the look of discomfort written across his face. He was attempting to tell her that they should not have kissed, that he did not think it was prudent for them to continue. Although it should have been Elizabeth’s duty, Darcy was the one who had to stop the kiss. Elizabeth would have allowed it indefinitely, and now she felt all the shame of that.

She sat still, fervently keeping an eye to the door, wondering when he would return. She absently fingered the coverlet that lay on her bed, sketching in her mind what she would say to him, wondering what she
should
say to him. As each minute ticked away, she could not decide if she more greatly feared his prompt return or desired it.

When he did not return directly, Elizabeth began to feel a sense of disappointment as well as a rising sense of dread. She surmised that he had reservations about coming back to their room. Did he have similar regrets that he kissed her? Could it be that he thought she had behaved too recklessly? Too wantonly? Or was he now aware of those feelings and regard that she had striven so hard to conceal and reluctant to face her? Did he regret the fact that he had married her, despite the conditions he had set forth?

As her thoughts and doubts gathered momentum, Elizabeth began to feel a stronger and stronger inclination to remove herself from the room before he returned. With a sudden surge of determination, she set her mind to the task of quickly packing her duffel, not taking the time to carefully fold her things as she normally would have done.

She grabbed a handful of dresses, all suddenly looking very plain and worn, and packed them away. Her personal items she put in a drawstring bag, placing that in as well. She picked up her shawl and held it tightly to her chest, then laid it beside everything else. When everything was packed, she looked toward the door again, as if to give him one more chance to return.

With her duffel filled with all of her things, and Darcy not yet returned, she picked it up and half-carried half-dragged it to the door, glancing one more time around the room, which was dimly lit by the oil lamp. She looked at her bed, then his, the table and benches, the smaller dresser and mirror. It was a small room, but it had been her salvation on this trip. His completely unexpected proposal to her had allowed her comforts she would not have known.

But she could not look upon it solely as a room that imparted her comforts this past month. There was so much more that happened to her. When did she actually begin to feel as though she was his wife? When did that foggy, confused, and selfish decision to go along with his scheme transform itself into a deep love?

She thought of him holding her as she cried, following Mrs. Trimble’s death; how he sat with her upon her bed and rocked her while her tears flowed. She looked over to the corner of the room where she had helped him remove his shirt last night; then over to the floor where they had eventually fallen asleep in each other’s arms. She then thought of this woman,
Caroline
, whose name he had called out. It would be unfair to force herself between them.

No, she could not remain here. She dared not. He would see through any disguise she tried to put on and know her heart’s leaning. He may have come to know it already. She did not want to put him in that awkward position. She would leave tonight so she would not have to face him again. And he would be free to follow through with the course he initially set forth.

Just before leaving, she looked back into the room. Whispering softly, she said, “Goodbye, William.” She extinguished the lamp and closed the door behind her. With its closing, she felt as though a chapter in her life was closing as well, and wondered if she would ever be able to move beyond it.

She stepped out of the room, wondering how she would explain her presence in steerage. They would wonder what she was doing there. She suddenly thought of the linens room, and how, that morning she discovered it, she thought it would be pleasant enough to sleep in there. It was just down the hall, an easy enough distance to carry her duffel, hopefully without encountering anyone.

When she came upon the room and entered it, it was dark save for a thread of moonlight coming through the window. She was grateful that no one had seen her, and she set about securing a pillow and a blanket, and spread them out on the floor. She practically collapsed upon them, grateful for the solitude that would allow her to unleash her tears.

She curled up and covered herself with the blanket, but knew that sleep would most likely evade her. She lay for some time with her eyes wide open, fighting back the tears, wondering if he had yet returned to the room and discovered she was gone. Would he consider looking for her? Rationale pushed away any hopeful wishes she entertained and reminded her that he most likely would not. At length she let her tears fall unrestrained and buried her head into the pillow so no one would hear. She gradually fell into a fitful sleep, her dreams becoming surreal and haunting.

In the first dream, she seemed to be trapped on a ship that was sinking. Lifeboats were picking up passengers, but no one seemed to notice her. She could not move; she was alone and afraid. She could see William and knew his strong arms could easily pull her to safety. But he was looking the other way. She tried to scream, but could not. She watched in agony as he turned and walked away from her.

In another dream, she reached the shores of America and eagerly met her aunt and uncle. They greeted her with the startling news that they had arranged for her to marry someone the very next day and hurried her away to get ready. She was terribly confused and disturbed because she did not know how to tell them that she was already married. In a fragment of that dream, she was in a church dressed beautifully as a bride and standing up in the front next to a strange man. In great desperation she frantically tried to stop the wedding, but no one listened to her. As she looked toward the back of the church, she saw William standing there looking up the aisle at her; again he turned and walked away.

Her dreams finally ceased, at least that she could remember, and she fell into a more restful sleep for the remaining few hours of the night.

***

Now a new day was upon her, and as she saw the sunlight beginning to peer through the window, a strange noise drew her attention away from her thoughts. It was unlike any sound she had heard in the course of the voyage.

As she struggled to determine just what it was, she realized the movement of the ship was different as well. As the comprehension dawned on her, she opened her eyes widely. They were docked! They had reached land and the ship was being unloaded!

She thought it peculiar that her heart could pound so fiercely, yet at the same time feel so completely broken. How could it continue to beat like this when she was about to walk off this ship, away from the man she had spoken marital vows to? Away from the man she had come to love?

She sat up, knowing that the sooner she made the break, the better off she would be. Perhaps once she was in the loving presence of her aunt and uncle, she could leave this part of her life behind her. She would have to go on as if this month, this voyage—this marriage—had never happened.

She quickly rose and peered out the small window, amazed at what she saw. She had not seen land for over a month, and now they had at long last arrived! She quickly readied herself for going ashore, dragging her duffel to the door and pulling it out into the hall undetected. She then found a sailor willing to assist her and carry her duffel up for her. As she followed him through the hall toward the stairs, she cast a glance in the direction of what had been
their
room. She wondered if he was already up on deck. What would she say to him if she saw him now?

When she came up on to the deck, she was not prepared for the sight. She looked out and saw land, trees, birds, people scurrying about, and carriages awaiting disembarking passengers. A flutter in her heart again reminded her just what it would mean for her to step off this ship. She slowly followed the sailor toward the gangway that would take her ashore, and he pointed out where the stowed luggage was being brought out and where she could pick up a waiting carriage.

With each step toward the beckoning land, her heart grew heavier and heavier. She found herself looking back, hoping to see Darcy come off the ship in search of her. She knew he had to be up by now. It was much later in the morning than when they had normally taken their daily walks. Each time she looked back, however, she was disappointed.

With each step she took, she felt herself grow increasingly unsteady. It became more and more of an effort to walk away from the ship. Her eyes seemed glued to the last step of the ramp that would take her from the ship and on to land. She could not look beyond it. Just as she was about to place her foot down onto that first parcel of land, she paused. Was it really within her to leave like this, without any thank you; without any wishes for his health and happiness; without any goodbye?

Looking back one last time, she gave the slightest consideration to turning back. She swept her eyes back and forth over the length of the ship, as if giving him a chance to appear, willing him to appear. Faced with the bleak realization that he was purposely keeping himself sequestered in his room, she took in a deep breath and decided she must keep going.

She took that final step off the ship, which brought her upon this new land, and as she did, she felt an unexpected and unexplainable pain grip her in the depths of her stomach. She wrapped her arms tightly about her, stooping down to help bear the pain.

It was a fleeting pain, but very real. As she pulled herself back up, she took some deep breaths, closed her eyes, and slowly took a few more steps onto American soil, feeling as though something had just been wrenched out of her.

She inquired of the carriages waiting, finding the one that had been dispatched to take her to the Gardiners’ home. The driver quickly helped her aboard, securing her duffel, and going in search of the trunk she had stowed. She sat alone in the carriage, grateful to be hidden from inquiring eyes, but unable to keep her gaze from drifting back to the area where passengers were gathering as they walked off the ship. It became difficult to take each breath as she began to give in to the despair that he was not to come.

She prayed that the driver would delay in finding her trunk; that perhaps he would be required to wait for some other passengers he was hired to convey. He returned directly, however, stowing the trunk most efficiently.

He then addressed her. “The ride should take no more than a half an hour, miss. Just make yourself comfortable. And welcome to America!”

Elizabeth barely forced a smile in return as she turned her attention once again to the passengers coming off the ship. She scanned the crowd, knowing she would recognize his tall form easily, the way he walked, his unruly curly hair. As the driver gave the signal for the horses to begin drawing the carriage, she tensed up, her breathing becoming increasingly difficult. She knew that with this last look back, it was his last chance to appear, her last chance to ever see him again.

As she looked up, her eyes filled with tears, and she was no longer able to distinguish anyone in the crowd. The carriage slowly began to pull away, and as it did, Elizabeth caught one last glance at the front of the ship where the name was inscribed:
Pemberley’s Promise
.

Although it was blurred because of her tears, the name of the ship hit her with a greater realization than ever before. It was a name full of promise for those who were headed for the new world. But for her, it was a ship of broken promises. Upon this very ship she had made vows and promises, not three weeks ago, that neither she, nor the man she had married, intended to keep.