by Kara Louise
“Of course not. I could use some as well.” There were a few other things Darcy believed himself to need, namely some courage, perhaps some courage-producing brandy, but fresh air would suffice.
They walked up to the deck just in time to see the sun had recently set and the endless horizon was a palette of reds, oranges, and purples that met the deep blue of the darkening sky. Without speaking, they both walked to the side of the ship that looked out to the colourfully vibrant sky.
“I am sorry if Mr. Jennings’s comments made you uncomfortable back there,” Darcy said to Elizabeth. “I would not have wished for you to have been put in that position.”
“Deceptions are not always easy to live with, Mr. Darcy. I am as much a part of this deception as you are. It is not solely your fault, and you have no need to apologize.”
His hand still possessively held her arm and he closed his eyes at hearing her revert to his formal address. The two, standing side by side, turned their attention back to watch the colourful sky. Elizabeth’s heart ached at the certainty that this would be the last time they looked upon a sunset together as man and wife.
As she looked out at the sunset, her thoughts suddenly went to her father when she saw him last. His parting words to her were a reminder to thank God for each day that He had given her. She thought it odd that her father’s words were not first and foremost on her mind this evening in seeing the sunset. She was surprised that her thoughts went first to Darcy, and her father’s words and parting request were almost an afterthought.
The two settled into their customary silence as their thoughts took a more similar path than each would have conjectured. As they enjoyed watching the sky give over its light to the coming night, they were suddenly caught off guard by a random, forceful wave that rocked the boat. Elizabeth was flung against Darcy’s chest, and he reacted to the unexpected jolt by reaching out his good arm to steady Elizabeth while his injured arm grabbed the ship’s railing. He winced as his shoulder wrenched with pain, and Elizabeth pulled away.
“Is your shoulder still in pain?” she asked with candid concern.
Darcy reached over and rubbed his sore shoulder. “It is nothing serious. This is not the first time today I have been reminded about last night.”
He may not have been able to see it written on her face, but if he listened attentively, he would have been able to hear her beating heart. At the moment, it betrayed her true feelings and seemed louder than the storm that passed through last night. He may have been referring to his injury, but when he mentioned last night, her only thought went to sleeping in his arms.
They stood in silence, facing each other in the darkness, when another wave propelled Elizabeth forward. This time the force of it was just enough for Darcy to reach out with both arms and secure Elizabeth safely against him as he was pressed against the side of the boat. After the wave passed and the ship settled, he told himself that he should release her, but he found it difficult to obey what he knew was gentlemanly and proper.
With the feel of his arms now wrapped securely around her, she suddenly did not care whether it was prudent, whether she might later regret it, nor whether there was some “Caroline” waiting for him back home. She wound her arms around his back and pulled herself closer to him, all the while slowly lifting her gaze to him.
She knew she was in danger, but was without any facility to resist. His hands came up and took hold of the shawl that rested on her shoulders, adjusting it slightly and then pulling it—and Elizabeth—even closer toward him. Elizabeth felt as though time was moving exceedingly slow.
As Elizabeth was drawn up against Darcy, he slid one hand behind her neck and brought his fingers from his other hand up to her chin and lifted it up just enough to allow his lips to gently meet with hers. He was momentarily surprised that she offered no resistance. That thought, along with any other, was soon erased into oblivion as he lowered his lips to meet hers and savoured their softness against his.
As he more boldly deepened his kiss, he relished the response this woman, his wife, was displaying. Elizabeth, rendered breathless and feeling slightly askew in her equilibrium, brought her arms up to the upper part of his back, clinging to him fervently as if for her very life.
Neither was aware how long the kiss lasted, nor were they aware of passengers who strolled past them, smiling at their ardent display. Nor were they aware when the captain came up from below, quite stunned by what he saw.
Elizabeth unexpectedly sensed a change in Darcy. He tensed and purposefully brought his hands to her shoulders, drawing her away from him. She met his eyes warily, unsure of what she would see in them. In merely the light of the moon, she could make out that his eyes had narrowed, and he took in a sharp breath, letting it out slowly.
He spoke, his voice uneven and low. “Elizabeth,” he paused, steeling himself for what he knew he wanted to say, but rendered incapable of any lucid thought by his fiercely beating heart. “What I have to say… I hope you understand, Elizabeth, but I do not think…”
As Darcy struggled to put into words what he so greatly desired to tell her, the sound of someone standing nearby caught Elizabeth’s attention, and as she looked over, she saw the captain watching them. Without thinking, she pushed away from Darcy’s embrace. Nervously acknowledging the captain, she expressed a rather shaky, “Good evening,” to the one man who was aware of the extenuating circumstances surrounding their marriage. Feeling a great deal of mortification to have been found in such a state by him, and even greater distress at what she was sure Darcy was about to say, she promptly excused herself and left Darcy’s side to return to their room.
Darcy turned to follow, but the captain gave him a friendly nod and joined him at the side of the ship. As the two stood silently in the darkness, the captain finally spoke.
“It is amazing, is it not, Darcy, how a violent storm can rise up out of calm, idle waters so unexpectedly? I am always surprised, but never caught off guard. We can be travelling through what we think are tranquil waters, believing everything is going exactly as planned, heading in the exact direction we want, when in the blink of an eye, everything around us is jostled, tossed around, and completely shaken up. When it has passed, we are not at all where we thought we would be when we first set out.”
“May I ask if you are referring to the storm we had last night or might it be something else?”
The captain did not answer, but was silent for a moment.
At last he said, “I believe there may have been another unforeseen storm that came upon this voyage.” He turned and steeled his eyes at Darcy. “You know I was never in favour of this marriage between you and Miss Bennet. But I knew you well, trusted you, and I hoped that some good might come out of it.”
Darcy looked at him quizzically. “Good?”
“That perhaps you would see what a treasure Miss Bennet was and would fall in love with her.”
Darcy rested his elbows on the rail of the ship, looking out across the water.
“When did you fall in love with her, Darcy?”
Darcy closed his eyes. “I really cannot say. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun.”
“But you do love her?”
“Yes, I do.”
The captain smiled, knowing that Darcy could not see him. “So what do you intend to do about it?”
The captain heard Darcy’s sigh. “I had planned to talk to her tonight. But with some things Elizabeth has recently said, I believe that she expects the marriage to be annulled when I return to England.”
“From that kiss I witnessed, I would tend to disagree.”
Darcy looked over in the direction Elizabeth had walked. “Do you really believe there is a chance she cares?”
“Darcy, all I know is that I have watched the two of you over the course of these few weeks. I believe I have not seen a couple more suited for each other, yet who are both completely oblivious to the fact.”
The captain turned to Darcy and firmly planted a han
d on his shoulder. “I would do some major thinking about what you need to say to her before you go back down to your room.” He paused and inhaled wearily. “And Darcy, I beg you, do not do anything foolish!”
“Of course, Captain.”
Wendell walked away and Darcy turned back to look at the darkened sea. He had grown accustomed to the sound of the waves splashing against the boat and the wind billowing in the sails. It was comforting, but his heart still pounded from the kiss. As he contemplated going to their room and exposing the leanings of his heart to her, his heart resonated throughout his whole being.
He looked out across the sea, seeing only blackness save the crescent moon and the stars that dotted the sky. He knew the course of the ship was determined by these stars, and he wished at that moment that he could chart his own course so easily and with the confidence and the assurance that Elizabeth would return his regard.
Wrought with anxiety, he paced back and forth up on the deck for some time, compelled to rush into his room and declare his love, and yet held back by the apprehension of how she would receive it. Those little voices with whom he had argued earlier surfaced again, but this time more meekly, and he was able to rid his mind of them. He knew he could not live without her, and it was worth it to take the risk: the risk of what his family would say, what his friends would say, and most importantly, what she would say.
He lingered a while longer up on deck, rehearsing over in his mind his declaration; using every bit of concentrated effort to calm his nerves, and to recover from the effects of the kiss.
Later, when he returned to their room, he entered and found it dark. He was grateful; she would not be able to see the nervousness that relentlessly plagued him. He doubted that she was asleep, as she had only come to the room within the last half hour. He found his way to the bench in the room and sat down, but instantly stood up again, spurred to keep moving by his nerves.
He rubbed his hands together, reciting in his mind the words he wanted to say, the words that had not come to him when they were up on deck; the words he felt that as a gentleman he should have said before he ever kissed her. But even though he knew what he wanted to say, when he opened his mouth to begin his declaration of love, the words still did not come. Finally he came over and stood at the edge of her bed. With one last, concerted effort, words poured forth from his mouth, but his mind barely registered what he was saying.
“Elizabeth, in vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” There, he had said it! The rest came easier. “In declaring myself thus, I am fully aware that I will be going expressly against the agreement we made three weeks ago concerning this marriage, but it cannot be helped. Almost from the earliest moments of our acquaintance I have come to feel for you a passionate admiration and regard. I am asking, Elizabeth, for your agreement to keep our marriage intact. I am asking that you relieve my suffering and consent to remain my wife, a wife not veiled in deception and lies, but in truth and love.”
Darcy was silent, waiting for Elizabeth’s response. He waited patiently, but there was no answer. He began to dread that his words upset her, that she could not answer for her anger. “Elizabeth?” He nervously called out her name. Now he was anxious for another reason. “Elizabeth?” He reached out toward her bed, found that the sheet had not been put up, and when he gently reached down, discovered she was not in her bed.
He rushed out to get a light for the oil lamps and came back in, swaying a candle around the room to make an initial inspection of it. His heart felt like a lump rising in his throat as his eyes took a quick survey throughout the room, realizing with a start that not only was she not in the room, all her things had been removed!
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.
Chapter 13
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 i
nto 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?
