Darcy's Voyage: A Tale of Uncharted Love on the Open Seas (6 page)

Elizabeth had a natural gift for meeting and conversing easily with people, and her sharp wit and lively personality endeared her to many. But the prominent thing that people noticed about her was how she reached out in concern to others.

When Elizabeth returned to steerage after eating that morning, she found Mrs. Rawlings fatigued and feeling quite ill. She knew it would benefit her greatly to get some rest, so Elizabeth offered to run back up, get some food for her and her daughters, and bring it back down to them.

Elizabeth returned with some hardtack bread, a few pieces of fruit, water, and tea, but Mrs. Rawlings took only a little liquid nourishment. Neither of the girls appeared to be hungry; they seemed not at all interested in what she had brought them. Elizabeth did all she could to get them to at least take some liquid, and when it was quite apparent that they would not eat, she simply made an effort to keep them comfortable and still.

She later returned up to the top deck when the girls and Mrs. Rawlings had fallen asleep. She was anxious for a walk, although it was quite difficult with so many people aloft. The ship itself also had obstacles that made it difficult to take a leisurely, pleasant walk without having to walk around things. Elizabeth decided if she wanted to get a walk in each day, something she definitely desired, she would have to do it early in the morning when few people would be up.

While up on deck, Elizabeth noticed Mr. Rawlings and informed him that his wife and daughters were unwell. She told him she had brought them something to eat, but they would likely be resting for the remainder of the day.

By late afternoon, Elizabeth was weary, having spent much of her day sitting with either Mrs. Rawlings or her daughters, and occasionally going aloft for a break and the respite of fresh air. She ate as soon as the meal was ready, but instead of staying up to visit with others as she would have liked, she returned to steerage and readied herself for bed, hoping to fall asleep early and get a good night’s sleep. She curled herself up on the floor and while a trace of light was still making its way down the hatch, she pulled out a sampler she had brought along and began stitching. As the light eventually diminished, and with her eyelids growing heavy, she lay down, but the sounds of coughing, sickness, and children crying continued to assault her, preventing any real success at falling asleep again for the second night in a row.

Earlier in the evening, but after Elizabeth had returned to steerage, Darcy entered the dining area, book in hand. As his eyes quickly scanned the room, he looked for a suitable place to sit, but in reality he was seeking out a particular young lady. Being unable to locate her, he settled for a table off to the side that had some room on the end of one of the benches. There were other people sitting there, a family, but since none of the women he had been trying to avoid were anywhere near, he decided to settle himself there. From where he was sitting he was also able to keep an eye toward the door, enabling him to see who walked in.

Seated with him were a middle-aged gentleman, his wife, and their two sons. Mr. Jennings made the introductions to his wife and sons. Darcy did not need to worry about making any kind of effort in conversing with his dining partners, as Mr. Jennings seemed content to carry on quite admirably himself, with Darcy only making an occasional sound of agreement or nod of his head. Mrs. Jennings occasionally looked at him with a somewhat embarrassed look as her husband carried on, but she contributed very little to the discourse. Darcy was content to sit and tune out the endless chattering of this man while his mind was solely preoccupied with one particular lady whom he was hoping to see tonight.

If he had only to put up with Mr. Jennings’s droning monologue, he would have been able to endure the evening. As the evening grew later, however, his frustration increased as he was not allowed to be content just sitting—had not even been able to pick up his book—but was approached by several others requesting him to join them in their table games, or conversation, or a smoke or drink. He was easily suspicious of their reasons for singling him out for company. He politely declined, knowing he would not be able to concentrate on anything but where
she
might be tonight.

She, the vivacious woman with the fine eyes, did not come up at all that he could see. Instead of his thoughts being able to dwell on her, he was continually assaulted with the presence of those whose sole objective was to make sure this man took notice of them.

After enduring only what he could while still remaining civil, he finally excused himself from those around him, grasping book in hand, and retreated to his room for the remainder of the evening.

***

The next morning, as soon as sunlight poured down through the hatch, Elizabeth awakened. She was not sure how much she had slept, but by the way she felt, she knew it had again been insufficient. There were only a few others in steerage who had awakened. She slowly pulled herself up and began readying herself for another day, remembering to offer up a prayer for the Lord to continue to watch over them.

Once she came up on deck, she breathed in the fresh air. How invigorating just a breath of fresh air made her feel. The staleness of the air down below seemed intent on taking away any morsel of energy she had, but up here she felt alive and revitalized, despite her lack of sleep.

She began walking, up one side of the ship and back on the other. She walked briskly, watching the sailors man the sails and attend to their morning chores and looking out to the vast sea, hoping to catch sight of the dolphins that she had heard often could be seen soaring alongside the ship. She quickly plotted out the best course along the deck to avoid the obstacles scattered throughout.

After having walked up and back a couple of times, she became aware of someone walking behind her. Thinking it was a crewman, she stepped over toward the right so she would be out of his way and he could pass. At length that person’s strides brought him to her side. But instead of passing her, he slowed his pace and began walking alongside of her. She glanced over, surprised to see that it was Mr. Darcy.

She was not sure whether he seemed surprised to see her when she turned her head, but he did appear uncertain about what to say.

Never to be at a loss for words or intimidated by wealth or rank, Elizabeth greeted him. “Good morning, Mr. Darcy! Pleasant morning for a walk.”

“Yes it is.” They both continued in their stride and he looked at her oddly. “It is apparent you know my name, but I am at a loss to know yours.”

For some inexplicable reason her heart made a tiny erratic leap as he inquired about her name. It went undetected by Darcy, however, and she answered, “Please forgive me. I overheard someone mention your name the other day, Mr. Darcy. I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

Darcy glanced down at her. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet.”

They turned their attention to their walk, and after a brief silence, Darcy asked, “They mentioned me? And what precisely did they say?”

Elizabeth cast a glance up at him, a single eyebrow briefly arching. A smile crept across her face, recalling the rumours that people were spreading about him.

“I believe, sir, that one person claimed you owned your own castle.”

“Is that so?”

Elizabeth nodded. “I am afraid it is, Mr. Darcy. It was settled that you almost certainly own a large estate, a castle, an island, or, I might add, possibly your own country. I am surprised no one thought of the likelihood that you might also own this ship!”

Darcy tensed as she made this last remark, but realized by the smile on her face that she was saying it in jest. “What do
you
think?” he asked.

She pondered whether to tell him what her opinion of him was, which was based on what she overheard him say that first day. “What I think is of no importance. And it is no one’s business but your own, at any rate.”

He turned his eyes forward, feeling fairly secure that word had not leaked out of his ownership of
Pemberley’s Promise
. The two walked practically in step. Elizabeth felt awkward that he most likely felt obligated to remain with her as they continued, given that they were the only two passengers up on the deck. They had walked nearly the full length of the ship before he was to speak again.

“May I inquire, Miss Bennet, have you worked out the sleeping arrangements in a satisfactory manner?”

She turned to look up at him, almost as surprised that he remembered as that he was asking about it.

“Unfortunately no. The woman to whom I gave my bed is now ill, and I could not, in good conscience, ask for it back. So I find myself sleeping on the floor again. It is of no consequence. I have done it often enough at home.”

She detected a deep, aggravated sigh from him, but he said nothing. His only response was to bring up his hand and brusquely rub his chin.

He did not make further effort to converse with her, and seemed lost in thought as they walked. She cast a furtive glance up at him to see if she could detect whether he was irritated by her presence, oblivious to it, or took any sort of pleasure in it. She was certain it was not the latter, but was hard-pressed to discern which of the other two it was.

They walked another two lengths of the ship in silence, Elizabeth pondering why he felt he must remain with her if he had no intention of talking with her, other than about the sleeping conditions in steerage.

But if she was surprised by his earlier question, she was astonished by his next comment.

“I did not see you up in the dining area last night.”

Elizabeth stammered for some sense to come forth. Certainly he was simply stating a fact. He could not mean anything by it, and she would be a fool to interpret it any other way.

“I took an early supper in the dining hall and then returned to steerage directly.”

Darcy nodded but wondered if her sleeping on the floor was as tolerable as she claimed it to be.

During the course of their walk, more passengers began making their way up, and Elizabeth felt the necessity to return to steerage and check on the Rawlingses.

“Mr. Darcy, if you will excuse me, I need to return down below.”

“Certainly, Miss Bennet. I enjoyed our walk this morning.”

As Elizabeth walked away, there was a moment when a memory teased her thoughts like an image from a dream that you try to recall but evaporates before it can be fully recollected. She had an odd sensation of having been at the receiving end of his approving deference before. A long time ago.

***

Darcy returned to his room. He did not have to remind himself that he enjoyed the company of Miss Bennet a great deal more than he should. She had neither the breeding, nor was she of the sphere of society into which he was expected to marry. Everything about her position resonated against his better judgment. Viewed in a rational light, he knew he should take his walks at some other time in the course of the day and thus avoid any more of Miss Bennet’s delightful company.

He shook his head. He did not want to give up his early morning walks, but for his own peace of mind, he determined it would be best that he keep his distance from her at all other times while on this voyage.

The following day, Elizabeth rose at the first signs of dawn and quickly made her way aloft, beckoned by the promise of sunshine and fresh air.

She politely nodded to the crew she passed as they hurriedly set out to ready the ship for another full day of sailing and she determinedly set out to walk. She stepped briskly, holding her shawl tightly around her shoulders as the morning air was cool, and the breeze from the sea, coupled with the movement from the ship, made it cooler than it really was.

At length, just as she began her second time around the deck, she noticed Mr. Darcy step out. He looked her way, and she was surprised to see that he refrained from walking until she reached him.

“Good morning, Miss Bennet.”

She nodded and replied, “Good morning, Mr. Darcy.”

He joined her in her stride, walking with his hands clasped behind him, looking either straight ahead or out across the sea. Elizabeth sensed that he was far away and was perfectly satisfied with the silence between them. She felt an awkwardness that stemmed from her uncertainty concerning whether, if he had his preference, he would wish to walk unaccompanied.

She occasionally slowed or quickened her gait to see if he would pass on ahead of her, but each time he adjusted his steps accordingly. She finally settled in her mind that he was content to walk in this markedly silent manner, which was broken only occasionally by one or the other in a comment about the weather, the sea, or how other passengers were faring.

Elizabeth stole some glances at him and marvelled that while walking, his stern demeanour seemed to soften somewhat. He seemed at peace, almost at home, in this activity. They continued to walk briskly and talk little, but when they did, he offered very little information about himself and she did not pry.

As more and more passengers came up, it became increasingly difficult to walk in a leisurely, unobstructed fashion. Elizabeth commented that she should get back down to steerage to see how the others were faring.

Darcy seemed inclined to say something as he took in a deep breath. Fully expecting him to speak, Elizabeth waited, but when he did not, she turned to leave.

In an action that surprised her because she did not expect it from him, nor did she expect the stirring feelings it provoked in her, he reached out and stopped her by slipping his hand through her arm.

“Miss Bennet, will you be walking again tomorrow morning?”

Elizabeth pondered whether his question was to ascertain if he would finally have the pleasure of a walk in solitude, or, however unlikely in her opinion, he looked forward to a walk together again. Her rapidly beating heart made it terribly difficult to think, let alone be rational and reasonable.

“I love to walk in the early morning hours, Mr. Darcy. It is one of my favourite pastimes at home, and as the exercise and fresh air are all I need to keep up my strength and endurance on the ship, then I imagine I will.”

He merely nodded, letting go of her arm, almost reluctantly. She did not believe that he could truly enjoy having her as a walking companion. They had not engaged in any kind of lively discussion or divulged any personal information. But, when she left and as she made her way down to steerage, she wondered whether his question reflected a desirable anticipation.

Elizabeth laughed and shook her head.
No! How absurd!
She was one of those very women who were
intolerably beneath him
, as he had so adamantly informed the captain!

Elizabeth spent that day helping Mrs. Rawlings and her daughters, as well as a few others who had taken ill. She was grateful that she felt well enough to come up for a break for some intermittent fresh air and sunshine. She found herself in a routine acquiring food and drink, applying cool cloths to fevered foreheads, and simply sitting with, talking with, and encouraging those who were not doing well.

***

It continued in this manner for several days. If Elizabeth came up first for her walk, Darcy joined her when he made his way aloft. If he was up first, when he noticed her he either quickened or slowed his pace until she was by his side.

He never said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking or questioning much, but she was struck with the fact that he did ask some questions occasionally that bordered between civility and genuine interest. In addition, he continued to be peculiarly concerned with not only the sleeping arrangements but also the living conditions down below.

In the course of those few days, they shared very little about themselves save that Elizabeth was heading to America to visit her aunt and uncle who were there on business. She hoped to remain over there for a couple of months before returning to England with them.

Darcy, in turn, talked to her of his sister and how he was making the voyage simply to secure her return to England. He told Elizabeth how her governess, who had taken Georgiana to the States with her, had become too ill to accompany her home.

Elizabeth did find, on about the fourth day of their walks, that Darcy was an avid conversationalist when it came to discussing books. She had noticed him reading in the dining area the night before, still keeping to himself, and a simple inquiry about what he was reading seemed to capture his interest.

That began a very diverse, animated, and enjoyable conversation between the two. Elizabeth loved to read, and although she enjoyed indulging in some of the current romance novels of her day, she also read books of more substance, plays and prose by Shakespeare, interesting biographies, and had even ploughed through some historical books with great enjoyment.

Elizabeth looked at each successive day after that as a challenge to discover a subject that interested him and get him involved in a healthy discourse. She loved to question his opinions and disagree with him. She thought it odd that he seemed to enjoy it when she expressed an opposing view.

When they first began discussing books, Darcy assumed Elizabeth’s knowledge would be limited. He was pleasantly surprised to discover otherwise, but what intrigued him most was the fact that she did not pander to his opinions. She expressed her views without hesitation, albeit politely, and did not try to align them with his solely because he was a man of wealth and connections.

A few days later, Elizabeth began to feel the effects of not sleeping well for several successive nights, but she still eagerly looked forward to her walk. As she readied herself to go aloft, she determined that on this day they would discuss poetry. She wondered whether he enjoyed that literary genre. She imagined he would not.

Later, after they had walked the perimeter of the ship a couple of times, she finally inquired, “What do you think of poetry, Mr. Darcy? Is it the food or foolishness of love?”

“I believe it is said that poetry is the food of love,” answered Darcy, fairly suspicious that she was ready to challenge his statement.

“So they say. But how often has poetry actually driven away love? If it is a good, strong, healthy love, then anything will nurture it and cause it to grow. But a weak love… I am afraid that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.”

“But would it not also have to do with the sonnet itself? A good, strong, healthy sonnet should have a positive effect on even the weakest love, whereas a weak sonnet, in even the most fervent and ardent love, might it not even be injurious to it?”

Elizabeth smiled. “But would not the recipient’s knowledge and appreciation of sonnets be essential? What is pleasing to one person may not be to another.”

A fleeting thought crossed his mind that she was much like a young lady he had met years before. The memory was merely a faded blur, having spent only a couple of hours with her in a carriage, but she stirred him in the same way. He could not remember her name or where she had been travelling.

They continued to banter back and forth, but this morning Elizabeth had to excuse herself early. She had grown more weary and even the fresh air was not obliging her as it normally did in reviving her spirits.

Elizabeth retreated back down to steerage and did a little to help out Mrs. Rawlings and her daughters, as she normally did, in addition to a few others who were struggling with illness. She soon found herself growing more and more weary, and finally was compelled to curl up and take a short nap, even though she felt she needed to help out those who were suffering from more severe illnesses. She ended up sleeping for most of the day; something that she rarely did.

***

With the rising of the sun the following day, Elizabeth struggled to open her eyes. Her head ached, as well as her body, and she was only vaguely aware of the sun sending its light and warmth down into the depths of the ship in a futile attempt to awaken her. She shifted her position on the floor but could not get comfortable. The voices she began to hear were only murmurs, and she could not make out any particular words. Her one thought was that perhaps she was becoming ill as well, as she dug herself deeper into the coverlet, covering her eyes from the light that was beginning to filter through the room.

Darcy had eagerly pulled himself out of bed, looking with anticipation toward his morning walk. That he found himself looking forward to being with Miss Bennet altogether surprised him. He rarely had, in all his adult years, been so captivated by a woman. Although he knew it was an injudicious partiality on his part, as she was not at all suitable for him, he was helpless to put her out of his mind.

She had become the one thing on this ship he found tolerable; a refreshing, lively distraction from both the unpleasant obligation this journey had become and the intolerable array of women seeking his attention. She enjoyed doing things he enjoyed doing. He tried to convince himself that there was nothing more to it than the simple fact that they enjoyed their morning walks together talking about books they had both read.

She does not seem particularly to seek out my attention as so many women do. What a pleasant change!
That last thought surprised him. He shook his head, contemplating the oddity that he considered a woman not interested in him a pleasant change.

He vigorously splashed himself with the water from the pitcher and managed a frugal attempt at bathing using the hand basin in his room that was the only provision for bathing on this ship. He looked at himself in the small mirror, frustrated with his unruly, curly hair that was becoming more unmanageable with each passing day. He wished he had his valet along, who could work wonders with very little. He wished he could don a hat and cover what he considered his least favourable attribute, but the wind up on deck would only whip it away, so he resigned himself to just walk up and face her with his hair looking the way it was. And it was certain only to get worse.

He readily walked up and out on deck, pleased to find another fine day, and he began his walk. Each time around, when he approached the door that led to the stairway, he paused, hoping to see Elizabeth appear. Several times during his walk he glanced behind him, thinking that possibly he would find her there, but each time he was disappointed.

He scolded himself, arguing that he had no business dwelling on this lady whom he would most likely never see again and one whom he would probably never have given a second glance in Town. She was simply a young lady from a small, inconsequential country village somewhere in England.

His strides became more determined as he contended with himself regarding the disparity between the two of them. Resolving to cease his musings of her, however, and the actual realization of it are two different things. He continued on with the hope of seeing her. After a disappointing walk, he finally returned to his room and wondered at her absence.

Later that morning, he went to the eating area for the prepared meal that was becoming less and less desirable as there was nothing remaining that was fresh. He overheard passengers talking about the sickness taking hold in steerage.

“With all those people confined together, what do you expect?” one man asked in frustration.

Another spoke up. “I have heard o’ ship’s fever that takes hold and runs rampant. Sometimes it can be fatal. I heard o’ ships coming to port having lost a whole one fourth of their passengers.”

“Excuse me,” Darcy spoke and a look of silent surprise passed each face as they looked toward this man who usually extended only the minimal courtesy of conversation that civility required. “What was that you were saying about disease spreading through the ship?”

“Not the whole ship, sir. Just down in steerage.”

“Do you know what it is?” he asked.

“No. It’s mainly in the women’s and children’s area and a fever seems to be part of it.” After a pause the man added, “I just hope it’s not the typhoid.”

Darcy tensed and his jaw firmly tightened as he thought of Miss Bennet. He knew she had been caring for the Rawlingses, as well as a few others, and wondered if she had grown ill herself. His mind went back to his walks with her, and he recalled that she appeared increasingly tired and worn each morning. “Has anyone inquired of the captain for some medical assistance for them?”

“I believe so, but he can do nothing. At this point he does not think it is anything serious and it will run its course. Till then we must wait and hope.”

“And pray!” added another.

Darcy stood there silent, as all the eyes in the group were upon this man who, for most of the past week, had been distant, aloof, and exhibited a very austere persona. That he was suddenly conversing with them was surprise enough, but that he appeared concerned astonished them even more.

Darcy felt a presence behind him, and he turned to see Miss Brewster standing behind him.

“Mr. Darcy, what a pleasure to encounter you this morning.”

The last thing Darcy wanted was to endure this woman’s wearisome presence. Each day it seemed she had sought him out at exactly the time he least wanted it. There were two or three other women who seemed to take pleasure in finding him unattached and wanting for company. Yet now she was displaying the audacity to approach him while in the midst of a conversation with a group of men. Would it never cease?