Darcy's Voyage: A Tale of Uncharted Love on the Open Seas (24 page)

As her presence was noticed, all eyes turned to her, and Bingley expressed with great enthusiasm, “It is so good to hear that Miss Bennet is improved! Should we send a note home to your family? Should we extend an invitation for your mother to come and see for herself how she is faring?”

Elizabeth, with more apprehension at what Darcy would think of her mother than conviction that her mother actually had a real concern for Jane’s recovery, simply said, “I think a note informing her of her improvement would be sufficient. I would not want to burden her to come if she has other engagements.”

“Nonsense!” cried Bingley. “We shall send a note and extend the offer, and she may reply as she wishes!”

As Elizabeth sat down to join the others in the meal, she sensed tension in the air, and felt it was directed at her. She wondered whether Miss Bingley’s address to Darcy as she was walking in had something to do with finding him with her in Jane’s room last evening. He obviously was distressed that she imagined there was more to it than really was.

The breakfast continued in relative silence. Elizabeth was content to concentrate on the plate before her, not because she was particularly hungry but because she was very much aware of the two pair of eyes across the table bearing down on her. The one pair sent out fiery darts in their connection with hers; the other pair was quite disarming, and if Elizabeth did not know any better, would have supposed it was a look more of tender regard than disinterest.

The note was immediately dispatched, and Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her two youngest girls, set out for Netherfield soon after the family breakfast. Her prompt arrival seemed less driven by a desire to dispense any words of comfort to Jane or any encouragement to Elizabeth, but instead, to see how things were progressing with Mr. Bingley.

Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would have been very miserable indeed; but being satisfied that her illness was not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her restoration to health would probably remove her from Netherfield. She would not listen, therefore, to Elizabeth’s proposal for the two of them to return home.

After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss Bingley’s appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughters all attended her into the breakfast parlour. Mr. Bingley met them with hopes that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected.

“Indeed, I have, sir,” was her answer. “She is a great deal too ill to be moved just yet. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness.”

“Removed!” cried Bingley. “It must not be thought of. My sister, I am sure, will not hear of her removal.”

“You may depend upon it, madam,” said Miss Bingley, with cold civility, “that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she remains with us.”

Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgements. To Elizabeth’s dismay, her mother exhibited her typical boisterous and unchecked behaviour, and Lydia insisted in a manner bordering on brazenness that Mr. Bingley give a ball.

By the time her mother and two sisters left, Elizabeth was quite certain that her family’s character had been decided by Mr. Darcy and found lacking. Elizabeth returned instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations’ behaviour to the remarks of the two ladies and, she was sure, Mr. Darcy who, however unbeknownst to Elizabeth, could not be prevailed upon to join in their censure.

In the silence of the room as Jane slumbered, Elizabeth could not relax, having felt the greatest humiliation at the hands of her mother.
How he must congratulate himself that he has annulled the marriage and will not have to endure being married into a family with a mother such as mine! It would be a wonder if he were not thinking at this very moment that had he known of my family, he would never have even considered such an alignment with me.
“Ohhh!” Elizabeth cried out and pounded her fists down onto her lap.

Jane opened her eyes. “Lizzy, is something the matter?”

“Oh, Jane.” Elizabeth came over and sat down next to her on the bed. “I may tell you someday, but for now, just believe me that I did a foolish thing a while back, and it has come back to haunt me.”

Elizabeth spent the rest of the day with Jane, certain of two things: that Darcy did not wish her company and the two sisters desired her gone. Mr. Bingley had proven himself to be most gracious, and Elizabeth saw such goodness and acceptance from him that she felt he could love Jane completely despite all their family oddities. For that she was grateful.

Darcy retired to the solitary confines of his room for the rest of the day. He had struggled; it was to be expected, with the unbridled outbursts of Elizabeth’s mother. Several times he had to fight the prevailing will to silently turn away. Again the quiet, persistent voices from his past rose up, needling him to put aside these irrational feelings and do what was required of him in finding a suitable wife.
But Elizabeth is suitable! She is more than suitable for me!
He walked to the window and looked out, slapping his hand against the wall and then leaving it to rest there.

As he looked out, mulling over the disparity in Elizabeth’s station and his, the refined Darcy name and her unchecked family, he came to one conclusion. He could not live without her. And until she told him, to his face, that she had no wish—no desire—to keep their marriage intact, he would do nothing to dissolve it. He took a deep breath. He told her last night he needed to talk to her. He needed to talk to her
alone,
and it was apparent that was not going to happen on its own. Darcy had to come up with a plan.

Jane continued to mend, though slowly, but she remained in her room, and in the evening Elizabeth joined the rest of the party in the drawing room. The loo table, however, did not appear. Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching the progress of his letter and repeatedly calling off his attention to it with messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.

Elizabeth picked up her book, hoping to attend fully to it, although she watched with great interest what passed between Darcy and his companion. As Miss Bingley repeatedly praised either his letter writing, or the evenness of his lines, or the length of his letter, Elizabeth wondered at the woman’s behaviour. If she had already secured his affections, she was not behaving as if she had.

Elizabeth almost laughed as she regarded his short, stilted answers to Miss Bingley’s words of praise. Sometimes he answered not at all. As she looked on curiously, Darcy turned to her.

“Have you finished the book yet, Miss Bennet?”

His address to her startled her. “I have a little bit left.”

“Then you think you will finish it tonight?”

“I imagine so.”

Elizabeth watched him for a few moments, her heart caught in her throat as she met his gaze. She had avoided turning her eyes upon him ever since her mother left earlier that day, afraid to see his censure.

Darcy’s gaze remained on her face several more seconds before Miss Bingley, feeling threatened by something that hung in the air between them, spoke up again, wishing him to send off a missive to Georgiana.

When he finished his letter, he applied to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth for some music, having a great desire to hear Elizabeth play and sing. Elizabeth watched him fold his letter ever so precisely and slip it into his pocket. Miss Bingley moved with alacrity to the pianoforte, and after a polite request that Elizabeth lead the way, which she politely and most earnestly declined, she seated herself. Mrs. Hurst joined her and sang while Miss Bingley played.

Elizabeth walked over to look through the music books that were lying on the instrument, and became aware of how frequently Darcy’s eyes were fixed on her. She hardly knew how to comprehend it, mindful of the fact that he had been exposed to her mother’s foolish oddities that day, and perhaps to an even greater extent the night at Lucas Lodge. To think that she could be the object of his admiration she dared not hope. He lingered at the table where she had been seated, picked up the book she had been reading, and then just as quickly placed it back on the table.

After playing several songs, Darcy drew to Elizabeth’s side, quietly saying to her, “I would be very much honoured to hear you play, Miss Bennet. While Miss Bingley is very proficient, her style does not always suit me.” He looked through the books himself, so as not to draw suspicion from Charles’s sister.

Elizabeth kept her gaze upon the music books but felt the warmth of his breath as he spoke. “I play very ill, indeed, Mr. Darcy.”

“Let me be the judge.” He picked up a piece of music and gently nudged Elizabeth toward the piano. When Miss Bingley finished playing, he presented the piece of music and Elizabeth to her, asking her to allow her to play.

With an air of decided displeasure, Miss Bingley conceded the piano playing to Elizabeth. Elizabeth sat down at the pianoforte, her nerves still resounding from Mr. Darcy’s closeness. She was not sure she would be able to play even two measures without her fingers getting all tangled up together. The piece he selected was a fairly easy piece, and she knew the words by heart. But she was not sure she could sing them in a way to do them justice, particularly the way she was feeling at the moment.

As she turned her attention to the piece before her, her fingers began to move across the keys with a mind of their own, and as she began to sing, she was suddenly no longer aware of anything in the room, except a pair of dark, tender eyes that had settled upon her.

Darcy had taken a seat where he could watch her expression as she played and sang. As she lifted her eyes from her fingers moving across the keys up to the music, she could see his dark eyes immobile and resting upon her. Instead of making her nervous or wondering what he thought of her or her family, instead of conjecturing whether Miss Bingley was an object of his admiration or not, she put all her heart and soul into the song, and the room listened in silence.

Darcy could not take his eyes off her. He had endured two days being in her presence and being unable to talk to her without Caroline interfering. He could only hope his plan would work.

As he watched her, as everyone watched her in polite silence, her playing and singing affected him in an even greater way. Her piano playing was very moving, flowing with an interpretation that he enjoyed immensely. But as she sang, the words and the soft, sweet tone of her voice wrapped around him as if they were as real as two arms in an embrace.

At the conclusion of her piece, everyone graciously applauded her, and a grin came across Darcy’s face that neither Elizabeth nor Miss Bingley missed. Each was just as surprised as the other.

Elizabeth, growing tired, and needing some time alone to ponder some of Darcy’s behaviour, excused herself.

As she turned to leave the room, Darcy stood up as she walked past. “Do not forget your book!” He picked up the book she had left sitting on the table and placed it firmly in her hands.

Elizabeth nervously smiled and thanked him.

She walked to Jane’s room to check on her and found her sleeping contentedly. Returning to her room, she placed the book next to the bed and readied herself for sleep. As she crawled in, she decided she would finish reading, as there was little left. As she opened the book, a small folded piece of paper fell out. She picked it up curiously and slowly opened it.

Looking down at the scrap of paper and reading what it said, Elizabeth gasped.

It read,
There is no greater delightful diversion than a walk at sunrise. Tomorrow. Fitzwilliam.

Elizabeth held tightly to the small scrap of paper. Her heart pounded fiercely and she felt a shiver course through her. Darcy had purposely placed this piece of paper in the book with the full intention of her finding it tonight.

She wished with every fibre of her being to believe that it was written purely out of a desire to begin the day with her out on a walk as they had done so often on the ship. She was well aware he wanted to talk; they had a great need to talk. She prayed he was not planning to tell her something that would be difficult to bear.

Elizabeth sat in her bed, knowing now that she would find it difficult to concentrate on the book and finish it. All she cared to do was to stare at the missive, written, as Miss Bingley had so eloquently stated, in such an even hand, and yet there was more: an elegance and a style that most men would not possess in their handwriting. She absently ran her fingers across the simple message and across his name.

She could hear, very slightly, a discussion from downstairs and recognized Miss Bingley’s shrill voice and Darcy’s calm, soothing voice. She could not discern their words, but began to feel a bit more confident that he was not blinded by that woman’s character and would not choose to align himself with someone such as her. At least that was her conviction if she had really come to know and understand the man as well as she thought she had.

She closed her eyes but could not sleep. Her heart was not going to let her easily forget that tomorrow morning she would start the day just as she had those days on
Pemberley’s Promise
, walking with her husband. She let out a long sigh, remembering with a sudden ache that she could no longer claim him as such.

Elizabeth savoured the clear memory of the two of them walking together aboard the ship, and she was not even sure when her wilful meditation gave way to dreams of the very same nature.

Later, as Darcy returned to his room, he paused in front of Elizabeth’s door. Had she read his note? Would she understand his meaning? Would she oblige him by meeting him tomorrow morning?

He put two fingers to his lips and then reached out and touched her door; his heart stirring at the thought of her just inside. He wondered just how much he should say to her tomorrow if she came. He was still unsure of her feelings for him.

If he knew for a certainty that she would remain at Netherfield a few more days, it would be easier. He decided that first he should get some basic issues out in the open with her. Curiosity and the pain that it caused him drove his determination to find out why she left the room that night and why she did not return at least to say goodbye. That would give him a good indication of her true sentiments toward him. If he were to discover any encouragement in her words, then his next step would be to subtly, without Miss Bingley’s observing, give Elizabeth some very definite hints that his feelings leaned toward a very strong regard. Dare he say love? His heart pounded at the thought.

Would she embrace his words warmly? Would he even be able to express the depth of his feeling to her in a way she would understand? Would she look favourably upon him still being her husband when he told her he had never annulled the marriage?

He would take one step at a time, and then he could only hope.

***

As the sun slowly made its appearance above the horizon, sending its first ray of light into Elizabeth’s room, she stirred. Stretching her arms high above her, she opened her eyes and it took her a few moments to begin thinking lucidly. As her mind cleared, she suddenly sat upright in her bed.
The walk!
She contemplated, with a thread of hope outweighing her doubt, and anticipation instead of apprehension, that soon she would be out walking again with Fitzwilliam Darcy. The chill of the late autumn night had inhabited her room, but the warmth of that anticipation flooded her.

She heard a door open down the hall and footsteps walk past her room, pausing, she noticed, just outside her door. She kept her eyes upon the door, half expecting a knock, but soon the steps continued on down the hall.

Elizabeth quickly arose, slipped on her dress, and sat at the dressing table, scooping her hair up. She looked at herself, at her dress, and began to think those same thoughts she had on the ship; her dress so simple, especially now compared with the fashionable attire of Bingley’s sisters and to what William himself was most likely used to.

Taking in a deep breath and opening her eyes wide, she let out a speculative sigh.
Well, it is now or never!

She picked up her coat, knowing that the air outside would be brisk, slipped it on, and quietly opened the door.

She was able to slip out without encountering anyone, and chided herself for feeling as though she was doing something improper.

She walked out and deeply breathed in the cool morning air. Little patches of mud still remained, and as she looked around, not seeing Darcy, she tried to determine which way to go. Off to the right was a gravel path, and she settled on that direction, reasoning that there would be less of a chance of getting caught in the mud as she had the other day.

The path took her to a grove of trees, below which was a small body of water. As she entered the grove, the path wound its way down, and in turning, she saw Darcy standing with his back resting against a tree. He looked up at her, pulled himself away from the tree, nervously straightened his coat, and took the few long strides needed to bring him to her.

She stopped as he did. “Elizabeth, you came.”

“Yes.”

“I was uncertain whether you would see the note, and then, whether you would choose to come at all.”

How could I pass up an invitation for such a delightful diversion as an early morning walk with you?
she said to herself. “Yes, the note fell out of my book when I began reading it.” She avoided addressing his other thought.

Darcy noticed a faint glimmer in her eyes before she answered him, and it took him a moment to turn and point in the direction of the pond. “Shall we?”

The two began to walk, awkwardly at first, thoughts of their walks on the ship flooding their minds.

At length, Darcy spoke. “I knew it was imperative we find an occasion to talk without interruption. I was not sure how else to propose it, as we have,
both of us
, been under the most diligent, watchful, and speculative eye of Miss Bingley.”

“Oh yes. Miss Bingley. We would not want to give her the wrong impression.”

“She gets the wrong impression too easily and too wilfully, I fear.” Darcy looked down and smiled at her, although she missed seeing it as she was staring straight ahead at the path before her. “But I do not believe her to be too early a riser, and thought this would be the best way to have a little time together without her interference.”

Elizabeth walked with her hands clasped together in front of her, as Darcy mirrored her, walking with his clasped behind him.

“I…”

“You…”

They looked at each other and laughed nervously. They had both begun to speak at the same time.

“You first, Elizabeth.”

“No, please, you may go first.”

Darcy stopped and turned toward her. “You left our room that last night on the ship, and then left the ship the next day without saying goodbye. I just wondered why.”

Elizabeth’s brows furrowed and she bit her lower lip as she contemplated what she would say. Being unable to meet his gaze, she lowered her head and answered, “I… I just felt I should not stay in our… in the room that night.”

He gingerly brought a few of his fingers under her chin and lifted it up, forcing her to look at him, and he looked intently into her eyes. “Was it… because I kissed you? Please accept my apology if it offended you.”

Elizabeth quickly closed her eyes, her ragged breath betraying her feelings. “No, it was not the kiss itself.” His fingers still pressed lightly under her chin and the mention of the kiss flooded her with a warmth that prompted her to turn away.

“Did you not like it?”

“No, I mean yes. I mean…” Elizabeth paused.

“I do not wish you to be uncomfortable, Elizabeth.”

“It was… it was because of Caroline.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “Caroline? Caroline Bingley?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“You did not even
know
Caroline Bingley then, did you?”

Elizabeth turned back to him. “No, but you called me her name the night… the night of the storm.”

“I called you Caroline?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“And you assumed that by my calling you Caroline, there was someone back home that I held in favourable regard.”

“Yes, something like that, and therefore I should not have kissed you.”

Suddenly Darcy began to laugh, and Elizabeth wondered what he thought was so funny.

“I am sorry you find my conjecture so humorous, sir.”

“I do not find your conjecture humorous at all, Elizabeth. What I find humorous is the reason I called you Caroline.”

Narrowing her eyes, Elizabeth asked, “And what, may I ask,
was
the reason?”

“I am not sure I should divulge it.”

“Well you certainly must now, as you have piqued my curiosity.”

“Let us walk.” Darcy reached over and took her hand, tucking it inside his arm, and they turned and began slowly walking, Darcy told her, “I awoke that night and found you had turned and were sleeping in my arms. It was quite… disconcerting… in a good way. I found myself fighting a terribly difficult temptation, having you so close to me.”

As he spoke, Elizabeth blushed, remembering the mortification she felt when she had awakened and found herself entangled with him.

“So, I steeled myself to think of you as Caroline Bingley, which apparently worked all too well.”

“Think of me as Caroline Bingley?”

Darcy shook his head. “You have seen Miss Bingley. Do you really think someone like that could be a temptation to me?”

Elizabeth looked down, overwhelmed by his words.

Darcy stopped and turned back to her. “Elizabeth, you did not think… certainly you could not think Miss Bingley means anything to me.”

“I confess I found it difficult to comprehend, but yes, I have wondered.”

They stood staring at each other, Darcy’s eyes travelling down to her lips and back up to her eyes.

“I am sorry, Elizabeth, that you have suffered under such a misapprehension. I had no idea…” The words no longer came as he found himself entranced by the glow in her eyes.

Elizabeth, feeling drawn in by his fervent gaze, shook herself free from his magnetizing spell and turned to walk again.

The ardour that had come over him was quickly dispelled by Elizabeth’s next words. “And why was it that
you
purposefully neglected to tell me you owned
Pemberley’s Promise
? Was it your belief that you could not entrust me with that information?”

“How did you come to learn of that?”

“That is not important right now.”

Darcy brought up his hand to rub his chin. It was not a simple answer. He considered it was not even a sufficient answer. “When I came onboard, I did not want anyone to know I owned the ship. I did not want to be burdened with complaints and problems and requests for special treatment. In essence, I wanted to be left alone.”

This time, Elizabeth stopped and waited while he explained.

“I knew that in my asking you… in making the arrangement we did… I would be able to persuade the captain to agree to it because of my position. I feared afterward that if you found out, you would be angry, or no longer trust me.”

Elizabeth looked away. “Did you truly believe that of me?”

“Remember, Elizabeth, you were the one who claimed, most emphatically, that the captain would not agree to marry us. I felt that if you found out I was his superior, in a manner of speaking, you would believe he had little or no choice because of who I was; you would come to regret it and resent me.”

After a few moments of silence, he asked, “How
did
you find out, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth knew this would be more difficult to tell him. Not that she was ashamed or felt she had done anything wrong, but because the whole experience at Pemberley evoked such strong feelings within her.

“We took a ship back to Liverpool from America, where my uncle finished up some business details. Upon leaving Liverpool, we stopped at Lambton, where my aunt had lived as a young girl.”

“Lambton?” Darcy stopped. “Why, that is not five miles from my home!”

“Yes,” answered Elizabeth. “Pemberley. One day my aunt and uncle and I took in the sights around Derbyshire, and my aunt mentioned visiting Pemberley. I was a little surprised by the name, mentioning that Pemberley was the name of the ship on which I had sailed over, and she began to tell us of Pemberley and that it was owned by the Darcys. You can imagine my surprise.”

“I am sorry that I did not tell you. But Elizabeth, tell me, did you go see Pemberley?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, we did.”

“And, may I ask, what you thought of it?”

“I thought it was quite grand, as most anyone would.”

Darcy felt a great sense of contentment that Elizabeth had walked the very halls of his home.

“And I had the pleasure of meeting your sister. She is very sweet and kind and a very accomplished pianist.”

“You met Georgiana?”

“Yes.”

“You heard her play?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“I am amazed. Georgiana usually hides herself in her room when strangers are touring the home. She is extremely shy.”

“Yes, but she can be encouraged out of her shyness. And the only reason we heard her play was because she did not realize we were there. She came out to meet us after Mrs. Reynolds informed her that I had been on the same ship as you on the crossing to America.”

“This is remarkable news to me! Georgiana actually came out to meet you?”

“She was concerned about you and asked me questions about the trip.”

Suddenly Darcy’s face turned serious. “What did you tell her?”

“She wanted to know what may have happened because you had been so despondent when you arrived in America. I told her I had no way of knowing.” She looked up at Darcy’s face and searched the depths of his eyes. “She seemed very concerned. She cares for you greatly.”