Chapter Eleven

D arcy was grateful that some warming of their relations had begun to blossom. Over the next few days, a regular pattern of accommodation to the sensibilities of each other was achieved by careful awareness at all times. He made a point of noting exactly how long he intended to be away from the cabin, and Elizabeth did the same.

The plans of the engine were laid out on their little table frequently. After both had leaned over to examine the parts, Darcy would inform her what he expected her to have memorised for the next day and leave her alone to study.

These moments of closeness were torture. He was now aware that he must seem curt in his responses to her many questions, but the sooner he could end their close time together in their cabin, both peering closely at the specifications laid before them, the better. He needed several turns alone on the deck to recover.

His mood would shift from silent ardour to sullen introspection so quickly that he was certain it did nothing to cast him in a more favourable light in the eyes of Elizabeth. To be so confined with the one woman he adored, who apparently believed him to be an unfeeling brute, with no assurance of ever gaining her affection, of all the many women of his acquaintance who had expressed clearly encouraging symptoms of warmth for him— There were moments when Darcy wanted to leap into the sea and end the torment.

The most excruciating aspect of the situation, beyond having few moments of respite, was the knowledge that her opinion of his past behaviour was so poor. It shaded every interaction and caused Darcy to reflect endlessly on the words he spoke and the nuances of Elizabeth's reactions.

The voyage continued, and they made it to the port of Philadelphia in speedy time. Once docked, Darcy had insisted that Elizabeth stay in their cabin whilst the cargo was loaded onto a cart and stored in a warehouse for the evening. Returning to the boat, a weary Darcy cleared his throat at the cabin door before entering.

Elizabeth stopped her pacing and stood close to him, her eyes aflame with an eagerness that touched his heart as little else could.

Wringing her hands, she exclaimed, "Oh, if I do not feel the ground beneath my feet soon, I shall run to madness. I have followed your instructions, for I did not wish to distract anyone during the loading of the cargo onto shore. I have stayed well away from the windows, though to not stare out at the first foreign shore I have ever visited has been so wearisome, I can hardly speak in a sensible manner. You must help me ashore as soon as possible, sir!"

Darcy had to restrain every impulse he had to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her. Her vivacity renewed his spirits and made his heart pound. All he allowed himself was a small smile and an informal bow of his head.

"That was my intention, madam. It was imperative that as few caught sight of your face as possible. It will make the transition of you to my—" His voice momentarily escaped his control and faded under a tightening in his throat. "—my wife less suspect. We do not wish to arouse more attention than is prudent."

Elizabeth dropped her eyes as her mood instantly sobered. Darcy felt a pang of sorrow pierce his heart. The thought of masquerading as his wife was so revolting to her that she could not hold his gaze. An ache along his jaw made him realise how tightly he was clenching his mouth shut with frustration at himself and their current predicament.

"It is not what I would wish. I should desire to continue as your nephew in the guise of a young man," Elizabeth said softly as she kept her eyes from his.

"Miss Elizabeth, you must realise that it would be easier to move about as a married couple without the risk hanging over my head of your discovery as a young, unmarried woman. I assure you that I will treat you as a partner—that is to say, a business partner in all respects. Indeed, you have shown a quicker knack for familiarising yourself with these new discoveries than I. Your mind is swifter."

Not as swift as I could wish your heart to be. Darcy quickly dismissed the thought. If he allowed himself to hope that perhaps…one day…if she were to witness enough of his sterling qualities to make amends for his previous rudeness that seemed to be so burnt into her memory…

He stepped away from her to gaze through the window onto the wharf. How many times had this ever-changing view been the only conspiratorial partner in his private heartaches?

Turning back to her, he stated, "Come, it grows late. You must put on my duster. It will conceal enough of you to make others believe that a gown could be under it. That cravat of mine is wide enough to pass as a simple shawl which can obscure your features and short hair once we leave the ship."

"And how am I to possibly continue this charade if I have no new gown to wear? Wealth and title may pardon many a crime. However, I do not think America is ready for a wife who wears her breeches more stylishly than her husband."

Elizabeth's eyes twinkled with amusement at this last barb for just a moment, until they dropped and a blush blossomed in her cheeks. Darcy almost laughed aloud, but held his tongue so that Elizabeth would not be more flustered than she was likely to become.

"I understand completely. You have made a cutting figure in your attire, and I am sorry it must be so, but I will not run the risk of scandal and discovery that may put you in some danger in a foreign land."

"Of course, you are correct. You have done so much to accommodate me… That is to say, I have not said how much I appreciate all that you have done. Thank you."

Darcy permitted himself one small smile. As his reward, one was returned to him from Elizabeth. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand, palm out to silence him.

"Now, let us forgo an endless bandying about of apologies and appreciations that seem to be expected. We are too much like friends now for such formalities, do you not agree? And since we are friends, I must insist that you call me Elizabeth. And whom do I have the honour of addressing?"

"You may call me Fitzwilliam."

He was uncertain, but Darcy thought he knew Elizabeth well enough now to recognise when she was trying terribly hard not to laugh. At first, a shadow of his former haughty ire began to swell in his chest. But he was in the presence of something so delicate and exceptional—a real sympathy between himself and Elizabeth that he would not risk for anything in the world—that he dismissed any sense of injury before it had an opportunity to take root.

"It is a family name," he continued, feeling rather foppish in his sudden desire to explain himself and his name to this country lady from Hertfordshire.

"And a proper, imposing one at that. It suits you."

Chagrined, Darcy motioned to the door of the little cabin with a modest bow. Elizabeth paused on the threshold, turning to glance over her shoulder.

"Have you mislaid anything?"

"No, I… It is the beginning of a new adventure, and I shall remember this cabin with fondness."

Before she continued, Darcy received a flash of her bright smile. He paused, realising sentimentality was not a characteristic that came naturally to him. Glancing back, he parted with the ship's cabin with a hint of sadness as well.

Here is where I discovered that it was I, and I alone, who believed myself eternally pledged to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It was a composite of shadow and mist.

His head turned towards the disappearing back of Elizabeth. With a stumble of his heart, he realised that he could not regret these days together with her.

Yet, I would not exchange my time on this ship with her for anything. Her laughter, her thoughts on our engine, watching the progress of the two-tailed comet in the night sky, listening to her soft breath on the berth above me.

With a puzzled shake of his head, Darcy climbed the narrow ladder to the bright shining sun that heated the deck above. Shielding his eyes, he glanced up at the cloudless sky.

"Goodness," Elizabeth murmured, "I never thought America to be such a tropical clime."

"It is warmer than I expected, to be sure," he replied as they began down the gangplank to the dock. "It is November."

The deckhand behind them said, "'Tisn't as it usually is. Why, I have been in this very spot at the same time last year, bundled up to my nose and my fingers feeling as though they may fall off from the chilblains."

The man had hauled Darcy's trunk off the ship and let it thunk to the ground unceremoniously. Darcy winced at the poor treatment of his possessions. Remembering that he was in a different land and that the Darcy name commanded little respect, and his alias even less, he bit back his initial impulse to scold the man.

"Some say," the deckhand murmured as he leaned in, his powerful breath not relieving the heaviness of the atmosphere, "it is a two-tailed devil that flies through the sky at night. It warms the air with brimstone and fire."

Darcy sensed Elizabeth swell up at his comment. He shot her a stern, warning glance. The last thing they needed was for her to commence a passionate defence of a more scientific explanation, bringing all manner of attention to themselves and her artificially low-toned voice.

"The demon will rain down all sorts of evil upon us, you mark my words."

"Yes, thank you. I suppose that is a possibility."

With pursed lips, Elizabeth glared at him from under her lad's cap, clearly annoyed at his mild response. Darcy gave a small shrug and took her elbow to steer her clear of the conversation that could have no propitious end.

Hailing a passing carriage that was for hire, Darcy instructed the driver to take them to a decent inn for the evening, one that was farther from the docks so that Elizabeth would not be seen by the crew of the ship. He hoped the higher quality of the place would preclude the captain and lieutenants from seeking lodgings there. During the short ride, he ensured that Elizabeth was muffled up convincingly in his duster jacket and cravat.

"I am stifling to death, it is so warm," she whispered to him as they entered the inn.

"Just a few more minutes. Once I secure a room, we shall see to some proper clothing for you," he murmured back, then approached the bar. "I say, innkeeper, may we have a room for the evening? My wife and I have just landed from England. She is still recovering from the journey and must retire immediately."

Elizabeth added a faint groan for effect as she pulled Darcy's cravat more snuggly around her face and head.

The innkeeper gave her barely a second glance as he called over his shoulder for a boy to help with the trunk.

"And, a calamity occurred whilst disembarking the ship," Darcy pressed on, "and I am afraid my wife's things were tumbled into the harbour. If you could direct me to a seamstress who may have a ready-made gown? We plan to travel tomorrow, and I must acquire some additional items."

After receiving direction to the closest dressmaker, Darcy and Elizabeth headed up the stairs to their room. Once the door was shut and they were alone, Elizabeth tore off the coat and cravat. With no attempt to disguise her discomfort, she also removed the vest and began to fan herself violently with the palms of her hands.

"How can this be?" she demanded. "We are not in the tropics, so why is it so close and humid?"

"Perhaps it is the flying sky demon."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to admonish him. Darcy raised his palm in supplication and, with a small chuckle, said, "I jest. Please refrain from a lecture, Elizabeth."

Her brows raised in amazement. "Another jest from Mr Darcy? The comet may not be the only miraculous occurrence to which I am witness."

"You truly believe me to be so void of humour?"

Elizabeth bit her lower lip, flustered. "I suppose that was unfair. Just two weeks ago, I would have said a jest from you was an impossibility, but I believe some of my conclusions about you were…"

"Wrong?"

"Somewhat inaccurate," she replied with an edge of spice that made his breath catch in his throat.

Darcy looked away, not wishing to dwell on the fact that they were alone in yet another small room. This time the torment was worsened, for they were pretending to be husband and wife. It was easier to tolerate when Elizabeth was supposedly a weak, sulky lad. Now that she would be herself in the role of his wife, Darcy began to question whether he could keep up the charade with any bearable comfort.

"It may be that we should once more discuss the possibility of you returning to England on the next boat. I am certain I could hire a companion to accompany you."

"No," she cried with a force of spirit that made him turn back to gaze at her. Her small frame stood tall and proud. "You engaged me as a scientific assistant, and I absolutely refuse to abandon you. We will deliver this engine and see it properly installed. I plan to be on the dock as the first steamboat ever travels down and up the Mississippi River on her maiden voyage. This is one of the most important moments in history, and if you deny me the chance to be a part of it, I will never forgive you, Fitzwilliam!"

Her words hit him in the chest as forceful as any blow from the fist of a man. If possible, his heart fell more under her spell at the moment when her cheeks were aflame with indignation and her chin stuck forward, defying him. And saying his name.

To imagine that I believed I was lowering myself by courting her. What a fool I was!

"Very well. As you wish. Now, please hop into bed."

Darcy was enormously pleased to see her ire instantly slip away to be replaced by uncertain confusion.

"Wha—"

"And cover yourself completely until I return with more suitable garments for you. It would not do for the chambermaid to come in and spread the story that I am housing a young lad who I pretend is my wife. You are supposed to be ill from the voyage, so simply recall your first few days aboard the Jolly Sparrow for inspiration."

"Oh, of course. I will tuck myself in until you return."

Darcy went to his trunk, then passed a novel to her so that the time would pass more agreeably.

"Thank you," Elizabeth murmured as she slipped under the sheets and settled into the bed.

Upon returning, Darcy handed over several boxes of gowns, shoes, and—to his scarlet mortification—undergarments to Elizabeth. After a small travelling trunk to hold her new wardrobe was brought up, Darcy hurried out to sit for dinner in the inn below.

He was served before he could protest as the innkeeper thought his wife too ill to be joining him. Therefore, it was with a mouthful of particularly chewy beef and potatoes that Darcy looked up and saw Elizabeth standing before him in a dark blue gown of simple make. It had black trim along hems that contrasted beautifully with her radiant skin. Her hair had grown rapidly during the past weeks and fell in short, wavy curls along the back of her neck. A plain coral ribbon swept her locks away from her forehead.

The expression on her face changed from warm greeting to confusion. Self-consciously, she reached her fingers up to play with a curl just before her left ear.

"I hope my appearance is not too… What I mean to say is that, if I can eat in our room— That is to say, the room, not our—"

Wordlessly, Darcy leapt up and pulled a chair out for her. He glanced at the man behind the bar who was watching them with undisguised curiosity. Darcy tugged his jacket down and forced his expression into one of dour resignation.

"There is nothing too terrible with your appearance," he replied in a low, unamused tone. "It is acceptable. The gown is acceptable. You are—"

He broke off his confused rant when he heard how ridiculously pompous he must sound. With a huff of resignation, he sat back down across from her and took another bite of his fibrous meal. When he raised his eyes, Darcy observed a modest bunching between Elizabeth's brows that told of uncertainty or perhaps even disappointment. Darcy instantly regretted his curt remarks on her appearance. A glance back in the direction of the barkeep told him that the man had become too involved in the task of exchanging gossip with another patron to notice them further.

His anxiety surged with renewed vigour when the pair of men at the bar glanced their way again. A serving girl set a plate before Elizabeth and retreated back to the noisy kitchen from which emerged clanging of tin plates and bursts of raucous laughter.

Every instinct in his mind and body recoiled at the mere idea of entertaining a concern of what these American provincials thought of the owner of Pemberley. A few years ago, his estate could have bought and sold this inn hundreds of times over and silenced all of those who might dare to fan the flames of scandal.

Now, the good opinion of others was essential to carrying out his mission here. If Elizabeth had been a young man as he had believed when they were corresponding, there would be no need for this unease.

An introspective Elizabeth silently raised her fork to her mouth and gazed out of the window they sat near. Carts and carriages rolled by as dusk set in.

Once again, the obvious course of forcing her onto the first ship journeying back to England crossed Darcy's mind. The thought of returning her to the vengeful embrace of an enraged Mrs Bennet made him shudder. Even if he did force her to return to England, there was little assurance that she would return to Longbourn. She might embark on another misadventure in which she would not have an acquaintance concerned with her well-being to accompany her.

Before he allowed himself to think himself into inaction—as was his habit—Darcy reached his hand across the table and placed it on Elizabeth's wrist as she was finishing stabbing at a chunk of the rather firm roast beef. The instrument and the offending meat clanked onto the table and plate from her hand as she looked up in bewildered shock at him.

In as low a voice as he thought would carry, Darcy murmured, "I believe it is the custom for those who are married to occasionally display moments of—of concern or…or…"

A smile of conspiratorial humour flashed across Elizabeth's face. "Affection?" she whispered as she leaned in. "I had a similar thought. It would not do at all for the master of Pemberley to be suspected of whisking away a young lady against her inclination. I, too, had taken note of the glances of the innkeeper. I remember you mentioned that disguise of every sort is your abhorrence, but perhaps this may be an instance of exception."

The bright twinkle in her eye was almost more than Darcy could bear as the spot where their flesh touched seared with warmth. He rapidly withdrew his hand and wiped it on the leg of his breeches, out of sight beneath the table. However, nothing dissipated the prickling tingle that remained on his palm.

He cleared his throat. "I am glad we can agree on this point."

"And my hair? And gown?" she asked with a hesitant lilt in her tone. "They are unremarkable? It is not the best fit, but you did an admirable job of selecting one. I was hoping to see another lady with shorn hair, but I have not."

"Do not concern yourself over such trivialities. I have observed several ladies with short hair in the manner of yours last season in London. Frankly, I find it more becoming on a lady than the heavy weight of pomade, powder, and false hair. It is, perhaps, a touch scandalous here in America, but it does nothing to diminish your— It is adequate. You are acceptable."

Elizabeth covered her mouth with her napkin to smother a laugh.

"Have I amused you in some way?" Darcy asked stiffly.

"Your comment reminded me of the first instance of our acquaintance. You have used the word ‘acceptable' at least three times in the past few minutes. I much prefer it to the other description you had of me. I… Never mind."

"What? I insist on knowing what I am being accused of. For it seems to me the remembrance causes you no small amount of amusement."

"I am afraid of causing offence, for you did not realise that you and Mr Bingley were overheard. It was quite by accident and a trick of the way the sound travelled in a crush of people. Do you not recall the Meryton assembly?"

Darcy frowned, only recalling that the evening had been horrid, the unpleasantness of which had been momentarily relieved when Elizabeth had passed close by him.

"I will not take offence, you have my word."

Elizabeth scrutinised him for just a moment, then said, "You told Mr Bingley that I was barely tolerable. That it would be a punishment to stand up with me or any other lady in the room." She smirked. "Other than Mr Bingley's sisters, of course."

Darcy was brought low by this new intelligence on his past behaviour. Blinking, he dropped his gaze down to his plate for several moments. To imagine this beautiful, intelligent, lively woman—the one lady he had ever encountered who so suited him in every way, so pleased all of his ideas of what the future Mrs Darcy would encompass, so inflamed him as a man—was labouring under the delusion that he found her little better than endurable.

"I have not offended, have I?" Elizabeth asked. "We are such friends of late that I had hoped that—"

"You have retold the truth of what occurred," Darcy replied gruffly. "I now remember very well what I said. I had not realised that you had overheard. You are not at fault, of course. My only excuse is that I was distracted by circumstances that you are now acquainted with and I was not speaking in a manner that I am able to recall with pride."

"Of course, now I know that," she laughed, "but at the time, it was a blow to my dignity that I found hard to forgive. You need not concern yourself with the bruised sensibilities of a country lady such as myself, for I have quite recovered. Eligible, handsome young men with estates of note are a scarce commodity in Hertfordshire. You and Mr Bingley caused a stir. I may now reflect on the incident with amusement, as I hope you will."

An edge of concern accompanied that last sentence, and Darcy looked into her eyes. "I can unequivocally assure you that those words are no longer a true reflection of my opinions. It has been many weeks since I have found you— That is to say, I no longer believe you to be—"

Elizabeth reached across the table and rested her hand on his forearm to stem his stumbling words. "Intolerable?" With a shake of her head, she smiled. "We have become friends during the voyage on the Jolly Sparrow . You need not explain yourself. I now find your honesty refreshing and realise you meant no pointed offence to me in particular. I am certain none of the Hertfordshire ladies would live up to your standards of a truly accomplished lady. I remember well your requirements during my stay at Netherfield Park. I beg that you do not imagine that I throw myself at your feet, pleading for compliments like—"

She removed her hand and bit her lower lip. "Forgive me, I do not wish to slight one of your acquaintances."

Comprehending her meaning, Darcy replied, "I would never imagine that you would cast about for compliments in the manner of Miss Bingley."

The silence echoed between them. Finally, Elizabeth giggled. "But she so enjoys the smoothness of your penmanship!"

Darcy could not refrain from chuckling as well. "Miss Bingley can be quite determined."

"You are fortunate to have such a devoted acolyte. When you are not present in the room, she never fails to defend you in the most glowing—"

"Please, I beg of you," Darcy said, raising his hand. "It is trying enough to bear her fawning with equanimity when I am in England, must I be reminded of it on the other side of the world as well?"

They both laughed heartily at this. Darcy wondered if Miss Bingley would be pleased or vexed at being the subject of international gossip.

Once their laughter faded and Elizabeth resumed attempting to coax a bite of roast beef onto her fork, a wave of forlorn regret filled Darcy's chest. It pained him in a way that the indifferently prepared dinner could not fully take the blame for.

Later that evening, as he stared at the ceiling from his pallet on the floor of their room, Darcy wondered how many more flippant, positively rude remarks that he had made in the past lay buried in Elizabeth's mind, waiting patiently to strike and swiftly foil any attempt he made for her heart.

He endeavoured to recall every instance of conversation with her whilst in Hertfordshire. There was the time when they had been alone together in the Netherfield library for half an hour. Silence had prevailed as he had attempted to prove to himself that he was perfectly able to remain in her presence without any surge of warmth. That trial of his resolve had ended in failure. Darcy had repeatedly glanced her way to study her reading a book when he knew himself to be unobserved. In vain he had battled, for his thoughts kept wishing for that very scene to be recreated in the Pemberley library with Elizabeth as his wife. The sole insight of value he had gained was the entrenched knowledge that he should avoid her company completely if he wished to keep his heart safe. But even in this, he had stumbled and fallen, believing that a misunderstanding was a pledge of affection between them.

Now, after weeks together, he was more in love with Elizabeth Bennet than he ever dared to imagine a heart could be. Speculation as to whether the sheer force of his will could dominate such a devotion of the heart was at an end. His determination was as weak as a gentle rain against cliffs of granite.

It had been somewhat easier to ignore her attractions when she was disguised in the form of a scruffy lad. Now, dressed as a lady, she was even more lovely than he recalled. There was a glow to her expression that their fresh adventure had caused to begin blooming during their voyage. He concluded by the frequent flashes of her eyes how thrilled she was by every little discovery and new encounter. Now those bright eyes and eager flushes of her cheeks were contained once more in the person of a young lady. No one was to blame but himself. It had been he who had insisted over her objections that she no longer pretend to be a young man. The increase of thorns that pricked his heart was his only reward for winning this point over Elizabeth. His triumph was laden with heavy regret.

A groan of frustration escaped his lips as Darcy rolled onto his side and placed his pillow over his head. Thus far, he had never once seen on her countenance an indication of that wide-eyed ardour that other women had, on occasion, beamed at him. Darcy decided it was time that he accepted the fact that Elizabeth might never feel an affection for him. He calculated exactly how long it would take them to deliver the steam engine to Pittsburg, see it properly installed on the boat, return to port, and board a ship bound for England.

A little over a month. Just a month, if all goes well and this warm weather sustains, it need not be longer before I can escort her back to England.

His funds were ample enough that he could afford two berths for the return voyage. And then he could be rid of the company of Elizabeth Bennet forever and his heart could be free to mend. This hopeful thought that Darcy had intended to be uplifting to his spirits caused the opposite effect and instead gave rise to an unexplainable dread.