Chapter Twelve

T heir trip began the next day in remarkably clement weather. Every soul they encountered seemed to have a ready comment on the odd warmth for that time of year. More than once, Elizabeth had to scold back her impulse to counter the claims that the twin-tailed comet in the night sky was to blame. There was even a whispered, hostile reference to a possible war with England that made the sun so defiant of the winter months.

Elizabeth glanced at the stony expression of Darcy who sat next to her in the swaying carriage. With regret, she recalled the easy companionship they had built during their time at sea. However, ever since she had begun to dress as a lady, it seemed to her that a barricade of the former Darcy obduracy had re-emerged.

Previously, she would have welcomed his cool treatment and would not have mourned the loss of his conversation. She expected nothing less of such a wilfully proud man. To her unquiet surprise, a pressure on her chest emerged when she reflected on the days when Darcy had been more at ease in her presence. Elizabeth assumed it was a regret of their former cordiality. Eventually, she made herself more comfortable by concluding that her disquiet was entirely due to homesickness and a lack of the dear company of her sister Jane.

Elizabeth sighed and brought her focus to the increasingly wondrous country that passed by their carriage and the two heavy carts that followed them. Trees the likes of which she had never seen, large birds soaring through the clouds, the manner of dress and speech of all locals they encountered filled her with undisguised wonder. Unconsciously, when a bird of massive proportions flew from a low-hanging branch of a massive chestnut tree, her hand shot out to rest on Darcy's forearm, demanding his attention with a sudden cry.

"Fitzwilliam, observe that bird! The span of the wings must be well over my height, and a head of white."

Darcy rapidly leaned past her to observe, his shoulder brushing her cheek, then just as quickly returned to his forward-facing position, apparently unmoved by the marvel.

"It is similar to the golden eagle, or the sea eagle which you have perhaps never had the opportunity to observe. I would venture to say that I have seen a sea eagle whose span of wings exceeded that bird. It is perhaps a bald eagle, common here in North America."

Darcy had delivered this observation in such a dry, matter-of-fact tone without a second glance backwards at the retreating hulk in the sky that Elizabeth felt her blood steam. It seemed that he was now almost mocking her with his unwillingness to ejaculate one single cry of wonder in this new land.

She crossed her arms, sitting back. "I must say that you have the most uncomfortable habit of remaining wooden and dispassionate, even in the face of remarkable beauty. It makes me feel more of an unrefined provincial than the most cutting of Miss Bingley's remarks."

Darcy glanced at her, before turning his head to look out of his own side of the carriage. "That is your impression of me? Very well. I will state that every turn of the road does bring some fresh source of curiosity to my eyes. I, however, choose to keep such observations to myself. I do not mind, though, if you wish to continue to point such things out to me."

"How terribly kind of you," Elizabeth remarked with a bite to her words. "I must thank you for tolerating my banal observations. I cannot comprehend your taciturn turn of mind. This is the adventure of a lifetime!"

"It is an adventure that was not necessarily of my own choosing," Darcy responded calmly. "I had hoped to be more pleasantly engaged at this time. Not halfway round the world, travelling through the wilds in a land that speaks of war with England. But the unwise choices of my father and the preternaturally charming deceitfulness of Wickham have forced this upon me."

An uncommon gathering of warm tears on the lower lids of Elizabeth's eyes threatened to spill over.

And I have added unnecessarily to this burden by smuggling myself into the ship. He leaves that hurtful remark unsaid, but I know he must be thinking it. She shook her head and blinked furiously. "That is the difference between us, I suppose. I am confronted with adversity and choose to see the possibilities of enrichment and adventure. You choose to be blinded by the responsibilities that you must bear. Whilst I admire your unwillingness to shirk your duties, I think it a misfortune if it comes at the cost of sacrificing every moment of possible enjoyment. Merriment and companionship—"

The increase in Darcy's colouring left her momentarily speechless. "What I mean to say is— Oh, do forget that I even mentioned the giant bird. I will hold you up as an example and keep all wonderment and exclamations to myself."

"I would not wish that," Darcy said in a tone that was so forceful, so determined, that Elizabeth returned her focus to observe him. "You are correct. I do sometimes take my obligations so powerfully to heart that I leave little room for anything else. It is a quality that my sister, Georgiana, has scolded me about on occasion."

The carriage was silent for a moment as Elizabeth reflected on this open admission. With a little smirk on her lips, she said, "And I can conjecture that when you say she scolds you that you really mean that she teases you. Now that would be a natural wonder to behold. Mr Darcy of Pemberley being teased by his younger sister."

Elizabeth had the unexpected pleasure of witnessing one of Darcy's wide, unabashed smiles. Not for the first time, she noted how his entire countenance altered so dramatically when he allowed a hint of happiness into his bearing.

"She sounds like a very admirable young lady," Elizabeth said.

"She is. Even through the difficult years of having no parent to guide her, she is becoming everything an older brother can speak of with pride. I wish you had had the opportunity to become acquainted with her."

"Why, even the remembrance of her teasing brings you such joy that I am terribly tempted to follow her example and try it myself."

At this, his brow darkened and he turned away. Elizabeth dropped her eyes to her lap and regretted the bold statement. They had been such friends on the ship. She reflected on the heavy burden that rested on his shoulders—the salvation of the Darcy name and fortune, the maintenance of Pemberley until recovery from poor investments was possible. The success of this one investment could help sustain him through the troubled waters he inherited.

The triumph of this steam engine on the Mississippi would prove to the European shipping companies that it was no mere passing fancy. Companies who were wary would be encouraged to purchase more of these engines if this one success could be achieved.

Added to all of this was that slight hint that Darcy had made to a heart that was not his own. Some hidden grief of affection not returned was the other burden that he battled.

Who was such a ridiculous young woman? Elizabeth speculated on how blind a young chit this unknown girl must be. It had been many days since her initial, abysmally poor opinion of the man beside her had been moderated by rational observation and gratitude. Her impartial remembrances of their conversations had led her to conclude that here was a man who was intrinsically uncomfortable with new faces and circumstances. Once he was easy, his company was enjoyable and occasionally peppered with humour.

Her gratitude came from the assumption that not all men would have been so accommodating, deferential, and kind in similar circumstances. Elizabeth felt safe and respected with him. It startled her to think that she could ever have thought otherwise about Mr Darcy. There were occasions when his former pride would re-emerge, but they were fewer and of shorter duration. Elizabeth was uncertain that even her father would have taken her opinions and observations under such serious consideration as Darcy.

Whoever this woman is who broke Darcy's heart, I have nothing but scorn for her. What a dreadfully stupid girl. If I met her now, I would tell her just what a simpleton she is being. His worthy qualities far outweigh his faults. Some ladies are just too silly. Perhaps it is for the best, for if she were one who placed a grand fortune above all else, she would be unworthy of him. I hope his heart mends and he can fall in love again one day.

With another fleeting glance in Darcy's direction, Elizabeth's heart swelled with a flash of compassion, for, truthfully, he did not seem the sort who would easily overcome a deep, passionate regard. Not like his friend Bingley. With Mr Bingley, one may foretell that he could conquer an attachment and love again. A more reflective temperament such as Darcy's needed distraction and cheering; it could not be left to its own resources to overcome disappointment.

Elizabeth made a silent vow to do all in her power to distract Darcy's mind away from brooding on his sorely-used heart. He was now her friend; a dear friend at that. She would eagerly do as much for any other person who claimed that rarely bestowed place in her heart and interest.

The leg of their journey that took them along the rough roads from Philadelphia to Pittsburg was dry and warm. This made travel rapid but occasionally unpleasant, for the air was still and the sun blazed overhead. Nights were always spent in a roadside inn. It was common for Darcy and Elizabeth to find a place that had two rooms available for them. Darcy's heavy purse often commanded particularly fine treatment.

If ever there was a moment of mortification for Elizabeth, Darcy was ready with any small attention that could ease her discomfort. The journey, for him, was more worrisome, for he had not only her well-being to consider, but constant vigilance had to be maintained over the highly specialised equipment they conveyed in the carts. The possibility of being able to quickly repair or replace anything if a calamity occurred was unlikely.

More than once, Elizabeth had lain alone in her room at night, wondering how else she could be of service to Darcy. Her quick mind would frequently compose amusing retellings of events from the past or craft ways for reducing the amount of time he took seeing to her comfort.

One daily occurrence that she could never fully experience with calm composure was when they reserved rooms for the evenings. Every time Darcy introduced Elizabeth as Mrs Darcy, a blush of confused abashment heated her cheeks. It had been decided between them that there was little need for his false name now, as the likelihood of them encountering anyone who was personally familiar with the Darcy family was slim at best. The last innkeeper they visited before their final day of travel, an elderly man with hanging cliffs of white eyebrows and a ready, rough laugh, even gave her a knowing look and a wink when he perceived her discomfort.

"Recently married, are we, sir?" the innkeeper muttered to Darcy.

"I, well—" Darcy stammered, unaccustomed to such an informal address from another.

Elizabeth pushed down her burning embarrassment and stepped up to Darcy, looping her arm through his. "Why, yes! We are newly wed. Just before our trip from England."

"I thought as much," the innkeeper replied with a quick, knowing look at Darcy. "Those that are newly wed always have a most particular look on their faces. I can always tell who will be happy in the years to come and who will one day curse the day they met the other."

"I imagine that your occupation gives you many wonderful opportunities to sketch the characters of others. I, too, enjoy taking the likeness of those I encounter. How marvellous to be an innkeeper. It must have some pleasantly diverting moments."

The old man looked up and blinked, taking a moment to ponder the meaning of Elizabeth's words. "You mean watching the people? Yes, I've always enjoyed that. I can tell more by the turn of a head and the glance of a quick eye than most folks. Some are not to be trusted with a crooked penny. Others look like angels that walk among us, but are ready to deal with devilry. Then there's those that look ragged and slippery, but would pass to you their last chunk of bread and dried apple. You cannot always tell by their faces."

"I agree," Elizabeth interjected. "Some who boast of great beauty disguise a dark heart. And others who are canvassed as plain are the warmest and gentlest of souls."

Darcy gave a tightening of his arm under hers, and Elizabeth knew this was his way of indicating that he was becoming tired of conversation. She smiled shyly up at him, wondering for a moment when it was that she had become so unconsciously aware of his little peculiarities and habits.

"But you have no need to concern yourself, sir!" the innkeeper cried out as they turned to go up to their rooms. "Mrs Darcy is as good as they come, you made a wise choice. Pretty as a song, cheerful, loving… I predict many happy years for the two of you!"

By the time they reached the stairs, Darcy was eagerly pulling Elizabeth along. They heard the fading laughter of the old man as they rounded the turn in the stairs.

"So eager to get her alone, is he! Well, who can blame him. What a perky, bonny face, a lively thing to say at every turn. Why, any man with a good eye and a bit of fire in his heart would fall for such a one as Mrs Darcy. Lucky dog, is he."

Elizabeth was fit to bursting with laughter as they entered their room. This had been one of the occasions when they had been unable to purchase separate rooms.

She sat on the chair by the hearth and laughed till tears ran down her cheeks. When her breath returned, she looked up to see Darcy pacing back and forth, grave and distracted.

"Poor fellow. If he only knew your true—" Elizabeth bit back her words and stood suddenly to open her trunk.

Behind her, the pacing had stopped.

"You must not allow others to vex you with innocuous comments such as those," Elizabeth continued, keeping her focus upon the contents of her trunk. "He meant no harm. He was simply observing what he believed to be a young couple who have recently wed for affection. It is a trifle to be laughed at, not a reason for the storm clouds of disapproval to gather on your brow."

Elizabeth turned back to observe Darcy as his silence extended. "Truly! It was more amusing than insulting to me. You have no need to sink into contemplations that will neither lift your spirits nor sustain a good humour."

Darcy walked over to gaze out the window, watching with keen interest as the horses from their carts were led to a small stable for the evening. Dusk was sneaking in, giving all under the sun's bright gaze a respite from the warmth of the day.

Elizabeth approached and stood beside him. After a quick glance up at his countenance, she ventured, "Besides, we are almost midway through this adventure. Soon we will be able to return to Philadelphia and a ship to carry you home."

Darcy turned towards her with a start. "What can you mean? Do you mean to imply that you intend to stay here, in America?"

"What have I to return home to? I could make a reality to the fib I spread that I was in search of a position as a governess. It is no secret that the most fashionable families in this country prefer an Englishwoman to steward their children's education. Though I would not be able to hold my head high among the governesses of London society, I think in a smaller city here in America, I may pass myself off with some degree of respectability."

The look of incredulous shock on Darcy's face could not be mistaken. "You cannot be serious. We shall return to England together, and I will deliver you to your father's doorstep. There is no need to attempt to sway my judgement on this matter, Elizabeth. It will be a futile endeavour."

The light was waning fast in the clear sky as the sun sank fully beneath the horizon. The sunset blazed forth with a red passion of a lingering farewell. A powerful mood of confused outrage hung between them, and Elizabeth was grateful that crimson and shadows began to play across the face of her companion, hiding his disgust and revulsion at her declaration. A burst of raucous laughter rang out from the yard below as two of the men from their convoy moved towards the tavern room of the inn.

Elizabeth blinked, unwilling to yield an inch to this man who stood tall and foreboding before her, simmering with tension that threatened to burst should she continue to defy him. She risked all so that her newfound freedom far from home would not dissolve away in her hands, like sand fleeing grasping fingers.

"I am very mindful of the great honour you do me by concerning yourself in my future," she began cautiously. "However, I chose to leave the protection of my father's house. Perhaps it was a foolish act that I will come to regret, but I think not. I am resilient and clever, and I will succeed in making a path for myself. You have no hold over me, Mr Darcy. You are neither a relative, guardian, nor husband to me. We are bound by nothing more than mutual interest in this venture. Once we deliver the engine and I help you to install it, all ties between us are dissolved. You have already given me a generous portion of what I am owed, as we agreed upon by correspondence. I expect the balance once the task is complete. Then you will be free to return to England or wherever you choose."

Darcy's dark face remained still, his entire body tense as if on the edge of a blade. Elizabeth knew not what to make of it. He had been more than gentlemanly to her during the past weeks. She could not deny that there was a strange twist to her heart at the thought of never beholding his face again. Never having one of their brisk conversations with the many thoughtful pauses, sudden laughs, or sharp retorts. Similar to how her heart felt when she pondered the possibility of never laying eyes on Jane again, or Charlotte. Similar, but also, somehow, completely different.

It is regret at the anticipated loss of a friend. One whom I shall have little cause to ever encounter again. That is what it is. Elizabeth explained away this sadness in her heart with sense and reason.

In an effort to change the subject to one that might give him pleasure, Elizabeth said, "There is always the possibility that your friend…the lady with whom you had an understanding… Perhaps your absence has made her realise that she had been terribly mistaken."

The image of this nameless, faceless girl who could hardly comprehend the sort of man she had tossed aside rose up. Cross and confused, for it was now beginning to be very dark in the room and Elizabeth's hunger and weary limbs could no longer be dismissed, Elizabeth felt pert words rise up. "She must be a very fine lady. Wealthy, dignified, beautiful. Hardly the kind of wayward woman who would defy you or cross the world over to have her own way. You two shall be most happy together if you can overcome whatever sort of puffed-up pride in her that has thrown your plans overboard."

"Of what do you speak?"

"On the ship. Do you not recall? You mentioned some sort of disappointment with a lady."

"I— Well, yes, I suppose I may have mentioned that in passing."

Elizabeth dared to reach her hand across the wide expanse between them and rest it on his forearm. "Fitzwilliam, no lady who has the privilege to be held in high esteem by you can remain insensible for very long. If she does not soon see the error of her ways, then she was not at all worth having as a wife."

"You are mistaken," he replied with sudden vehemence. "She is all that I could wish for. It was my folly, my misfortune, my mistake in pride that has created her scorn for my regard. I hope that I will be able to overcome it, someday. I have not yielded to despair yet. Her heart may still be free to be won, if I am worthy of her."

The closeness of the room, the intimacy of this conversation—so unnatural and new to her—caused Elizabeth to step back and tear her gaze from his obscured face. Hurriedly, she moved back to her trunk and began to remove what she would need for the stay here. Tears of fury at this unaccountably stupid woman in England made her blink rapidly.

Poor Darcy, he does not deserve such callous treatment.

He cleared his throat and moved to the door. In a thick, low voice, he said, "The bolt on this door is strong, and the reputation of the inn is honourable. They even employ a man to walk about at night. Apparently, this close to the city of Pittsburg, cutpurses will make attempts on unwatched goods. I plan on sleeping in the barn tonight."

Elizabeth spun. "In the barn! You must be joking."

He stiffened as his spine lengthened in an attitude that Elizabeth was now all too familiar with. "Yes, in the barn. I will be very close to the carts. I will risk no calamity that may endanger the machinery. You are to dine in your room and keep the door bolted at all times. Do you understand?"

"But that is unnecessary. You may give rise to increased interest in the carts, if you insist on sleeping on hay all the night through, watching over them. You should sleep— You should remain, for the night that is, you must be—"

Elizabeth fumbled over the words, feeling foolish.

"Bolt the door after I leave. Except for your meal, keep it shut till I come for you in the morning."

"Do not presume to tell me what to do!"

But her words were lost in the slamming of her door that rattled the glass in the windows. Elizabeth tamped down the urge to hurl something and scream into her pillow. Instead she paced endlessly till her meal came. The chambermaid gave her a curious, amused glance, apparently hoping to glean some bit of gossip for the innkeeper. Elizabeth held her head high and said no more than what was necessary for the sake of politeness.

She could not sleep that night. The thin curtains did little to dim the blaze of the comet. At last, she stood and gazed out the window, wrapping her shoulders in the wool shawl that Darcy had purchased for her in Philadelphia.

It was not chilly enough to make the shawl a necessity, but the sharp awareness she felt at the knowledge of being alone in this room created a pervasive coolness all over her body. Her arms wrapped around her shoulders as she rested her chin on her forearms.

Even the spectacular sight of the comet could not hold her attention, and soon her eyes focused on the door of the barn, slightly obscured by the carts. She continued to stare at the darkness within, her will silently attempting to force a glimpse of Darcy.

Suddenly, there he was. His hand rubbed his head rapidly in an attempt to rid his hair of bits of straw. Elizabeth smiled as the chill in her limbs retreated instantly. Darcy stared up at the comet as he leaned against the wall. His face, illuminated by the unearthly radiance from the night sky, looked melancholy.

Instinctively, Elizabeth drew back away from the window, her heart beating unsteadily. From the shadows of the room, she saw him lift his gaze to her window. With a gasp, Elizabeth withdrew and covered herself with the bedsheet as she flung herself upon the mattress.

Hoping the tumult of emotion would subside, she remained in bed, tossing and turning for the remainder of the night, the tangle of new sensations and old prejudices battling in her breast.