Chapter Sixteen

E lizabeth emerged from the hold of the ship as the last rays of the reddish sunlight were beginning to wane for the day. Her mind was in a state of exhaustion, whirling around and in upon itself.

The engine was near completion and would be ready for testing on the water very soon. She was excited and yet also oddly reluctant to see the task to its conclusion. When she reflected on why this was during the few moments in her bed before her exhaustion overcame her and she slipped into slumber, she could not fully account for it. There was the natural anxiety as to what would come next for her. Would she return to England? But what was there for her to return to? A possible home with Jane if she married well. Though her love and respect for Jane was deep and true, Elizabeth could not imagine that such a fate—being dependent upon her sister and the good nature of her future brother—was a path that held much appeal for her. It stung her naturally independent inclinations. A return to Longbourn? What awaited her there was more badgering from her mother as to how her impertinence as a small child had caused their ruination and despair. How any parent could blame one child for the lack of a son was beyond Elizabeth's reckoning. Upon that early, imagined crime would be the shock of her departure and the unforgiving scandal of her return.

If her favourite child, Lydia, was to commit a similar misdeed, I have no doubt she would be immediately forgiven and granted a warm welcome back into Mama's graces. I am certain my mother would find a way to proclaim it as a clever choice and Lydia would be held up as an example that the rest of her sisters should strive to imitate.

Elizabeth chided herself for being so unkind, for surely even her own mother could not be so unreasonable. She wearily shook her head at this irritating thought, attempting to brush it away. Mrs Bennet could not be so blinded by partiality to one child as to forgive a misdeed that she would vehemently condemn in another child.

The only course Elizabeth's weary mind could imagine, like a hazy path that meandered and vanished into the lingering fog of a fall morning, was the option of remaining in America and securing herself a respectable position as a governess to a wealthy family. Even during her hasty trip from Philadelphia to Pittsburg, she had observed many enormous houses, built to impress and intimidate; there would be numerous families eager to pay dearly for an English governess who was a gentleman's daughter. She imagined that she would be particularly desirable, as the amount of Englishwomen coming to this country during a time when war threatened was likely small.

Reluctantly, Elizabeth turned to her side with a groan. For a moment, she froze, worried her noise would cause Darcy to stir. Then, relaxing, she recollected that they had been able to secure separate rooms for their stay here and that she need have no concern on that point.

And what of Darcy?

The thought steamed into her mind with loud clarity.

Yes? What of him? What am I to Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy but another impediment in his path towards securing more funding to ensure the future of his beloved Pemberley? She had no response, and her heart began to develop a peculiar sort of resentful ache—low, steady, and solid.

That he had become a good friend was apparent. That he was determined to succeed, no matter the cost, was also clear. Elizabeth was now aware that she would be sad to see the end of their acquaintance, but how could it be helped? There was little chance the owner of Pemberley would risk bringing an unwed woman back to England with him, no matter what he claimed he might do. And the mere thought of being in the same country as him—a relatively small island compared with the vast, unimaginable wilderness of America—made her toss and scratch at the back of her neck in impatience. To possibly encounter him in society—an unlikely event, but one that kept repeating itself before her weary eyes—and know that the friendship that had grown between them would likely never be acknowledged by him made her frustrated and unsettled.

She sighed heavily and banished such a gloomy future by choosing to recall Darcy's expression after he had jokingly compared her amazed face to that of a fish at Pemberley. Her own mouth creased upward into a drowsy grin as she remembered the look of mischief in his eyes.

In order to gain a few hours of sleep before the next day, Elizabeth came to a resolution. If she were to stay here in America and seek employment in a family of consequence, it would behove her to have some private words with Mrs Lydia Roosevelt. Being of a decisive nature, sleep no longer stayed at bay once her mind was made up.

The next morning, over breakfast, Elizabeth informed Darcy that she felt it was her duty to pay a call on Lydia Roosevelt before she arrived at the shipyard for the day's work.

"I am certain that, if her condition permitted, she would be at the shipyard nearly as frequently as I. It is not often that I meet with a young lady whose strength of character is so formidable."

"She may not be terribly young, but I believe that if you had ever met my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, you would have a broader acquaintance of ladies with imposing character."

"I gathered as much from my cousin, Mr Collins. He was quite enamoured with his patroness. But I object to you lumping in a lady of strong character with those who impose their nature and opinions—whether they were asked for or not—on those in a position of less power. It takes no strength to lord over those who are in your debt."

"That is an important distinction. Forgive my choice of word. I would never presume to cast you or Mrs Roosevelt in the same group as Lady Catherine. I apologise."

With a soft laugh, Elizabeth said, "Apology accepted. And do you really think of me as having a strong character?" She smiled broadly, a faint warmth crawling up her neck as she kept her sharp gaze on Darcy.

"I know you too well to imagine that you are casting about for compliments—"

"As some ladies do…"

"Precisely. So, if you must know… Yes. I find you to be a lady of strong character, capable skills, and a quick mind."

Darcy paused as he looked down at the table, rearranging a piece of cutlery that had been perfectly placed before he had begun to shuffle it back and forth. He drew in a long breath, as if about to continue his shocking and sudden offering of compliments. Elizabeth had been stunned into silence at the several words of admiration from him. If she had ever believed herself to be too far below him to garner any sort of notice, those assumptions were swept away, for she was intimately familiar enough with the truth of Darcy's character to be assured that he did not flatter without first truly believing in what he said.

Elizabeth stood suddenly, feeling the dining room to be unusually warm. "I should be on my way. I do not wish to miss anything important at the shipyard." She turned to leave and then paused. "I would not want you to make any mistakes due to my absence."

She had the enormous satisfaction of witnessing a small laugh from Darcy as he shook his head and raised his cup of pungent coffee to his lips.

At the house that the Roosevelts had rented for their stay in Pittsburg, Elizabeth was greeted most enthusiastically at the front door by their enormous Newfoundland dog and the more subdued lady's maid.

The young woman looked to be at her wit's end when the dog, in his eagerness to renew his acquaintance with Elizabeth, had brushed up roughly against her and caused her to stumble back a step. With a laugh, she tousled the dog on the top of his head, paying special attention to the spots behind each ear.

"Tiger! You naughty beast, as if I do not have enough to worry me, now you must get hair all over Mrs Darcy's gown."

"Clara May, is it?"

"Yes, madam."

"I am not put out in the least. I adore dogs and sorely miss a few family dogs that I had to leave behind."

"That is all very well. However, if I am to teach this unkempt rug anything at all about not slobbering all over the gowns of fine ladies, he must not be given all the attentions and pats."

Elizabeth withdrew her hand from Tiger and stood up tall and prim, masking her pleasure at the attention from Tiger.

"Of course, Clara May. You are quite right in your thinking."

The hard blue eyes of the young woman softened as she opened the door wider to admit Elizabeth. As she brushed past the girl—Tiger jostling them about even further during her entrance—Elizabeth wondered at the fair-haired beauty with the slightest hint of an Irish lilt in her speech. In England, people were much easier to place and observe. Here in America, there were many hidden depths that could only be ferreted out by careful listening and a few restrained questions. Clara May could already have travelled the Atlantic several times over before becoming the lady's maid to the young Mrs Roosevelt. She could have been from a noble family fallen on hard times, or have raised herself up from wretched obscurity to attain the post she had now.

"Clara May, do you intend on travelling with Mrs Roosevelt on the New Orleans ? Or shall you remain here, in Pittsburg? I thought Mrs Roosevelt mentioned her maid was to accompany her."

"I am going on the boat, miss. I couldn't be easy with her travelling without me."

"I expect Mrs Roosevelt will be much at ease knowing there is a familiar face there to comfort her when her confinement begins."

"Yes, ma'am."

Elizabeth headed for the parlour, but stopped when Clara May indicated that they were to step up to the next level.

"Mrs Roosevelt keeps to her bed? Is… Is she well?"

"I expect that is a question for the doctor. He will be here shortly. Mrs Roosevelt left particular instructions that only you were to see her."

"Ah, very good." Elizabeth was glad she had come on this visitation before going to the boatyard.

At the head of the stairs, Clara May halted abruptly. Elizabeth gazed up at her from the step below, startled.

"Between you and me, madam, I think it is a right bad notion she has of taking this trip. Not good for her. Not good for the babe to come. I hope you do not think me overstepping my place, but you seem a most sensible lady with some education and ability."

Elizabeth looked down, suddenly remembering Mrs Hill from Longbourn, who was similar in her forthrightness. "I appreciate your good opinion of me, Clara May. And I assure you that, if the doctor deems it unwise for Mrs Roosevelt to make this trip, I will tell her that his advice should be seriously considered."

A curt nod from the willowy, fair maid was all that Elizabeth received as a response. They stopped before the door and she knocked gently.

"Madam? It is Mrs Darcy to see you. I've shown her up, just as you instructed."

Elizabeth entered the chamber, dimly lit as the curtains were drawn against the harsh, bright winter sun. Even with the windows cloaked, that peculiar reddish sun, warm and blaring, seemed to make the room stifling. The large bed stood against the far wall, and she saw the form of Lydia on one side. The sheets across the entire bed were in such a state of disorder that Elizabeth realised that Mr Roosevelt and his wife must share the same bed. A habit that made Elizabeth avert her eyes momentarily out of embarrassment.

"Elizabeth! How lovely of you to make time for a call. I, of all people, realise the demands of the shipyard on our husbands."

"Yes, Mr Darcy travels there as we speak. I will attend him shortly, but I wanted to see for myself how you fared."

Elizabeth was close enough now to observe that her young friend was well enough, but there was a pinching around the eyes and chin that told of some discomfort that was nagging her. Elizabeth turned to see the room was empty and Clara May had gone to attend to her other duties with Rosetta and Tiger. Walking to the corner, she pulled up a chair to sit next to the bed.

"I apologise. Clara May should have attended to that, but…"

"Do not alarm yourself, for it is apparent that Clara May has her hands quite full with other duties. Please tell me, are you unwell?"

"I will not hide the truth. I was in no small amount of pain last night and await the doctor. My anxiety over this impending trip has been harassing my mind whilst the baby has been harassing my belly!"

Lydia laughed and Elizabeth joined in, glad that they were able to speak so openly with each other. "It may be nothing more than a passing occurrence."

"Perhaps," Lydia agreed, her lengthening of the word showing she was not fully convinced that it was a momentary inconvenience. "Have you discussed the possibility of you and your husband travelling down to New Orleans?"

Elizabeth looked away, unable to meet the eye of a young lady whom she admired and respected with the knowledge that her own ‘marriage' was a lie. How could she convey to Lydia that she did not have the natural consequence of a wife that would be the happy result of a marriage of mutual affection and respect?

"It is difficult… You see, Mr Darcy is possessed of a temperament that makes a change in situation or plans unwelcome."

"I see. I see how it is. That much is apparent now that you point it out to me. He is the mountain, and you are always the one who attempts to move him. It is a good pairing then, though I imagine it leads to some moments of conflict. It is quite the opposite with Nicholas and myself. It seems that I am the one who must point out the deficiencies and challenges in any scheme that he imagines."

"Yes, I do have to convince Darcy of the benefits of a development. He can be as stubborn as an ox, when the mood strikes."

They both laughed at this image of the tall, imperious Darcy. "But," Lydia ventured with a teasing tilt to her head, "I can readily see the love between you two. He gazes at you sometimes, especially when your attention is elsewhere, with such a fire of adoration that I imagine you could persuade him into anything."

Elizabeth dropped her head and rearranged her gloves, for a moment, unsure what Lydia was referring to. A warmth of blushing confusion spread over her cheeks.

"A marriage where love is the dominant bond… That is a rare thing," Lydia continued. "It seems so many couples have a bond of property, consequence, fortune. A union with a foundation of respect and affection is the happiest of all possible—"

Elizabeth looked up sharply and saw Mrs Roosevelt press a hand to her stomach. "Can I get anything for your comfort? Do you wish me to summon Clara May?"

Lydia shook her head, her face relaxing as the wave of unpleasantness subsided. "No. I am recovered. The one thing you could do to secure my comfort is to pull a consent from Mr Darcy about his willingness to step into the role of leader if we are unable to make the voyage on the New Orleans ."

Elizabeth frowned momentarily. Recalling the delicate situation of the young lady before her, she forced her face into a pleasant, comforting expression and took up Lydia's hand. "You can rely upon me. I promise to do all in my power to persuade Mr Darcy of the importance of this trip."

"Oh, Mrs Darcy, you have no idea what that does to soothe my mind."

Elizabeth squeezed her hand, seeing so much of herself in the young woman in the bed. It could have been her, pursuing a dream, married to a man she adored, expecting another child in a short amount of time.

Elizabeth arrived at the shipyard in time to witness the shaft from the engine being secured to the crossbeam that reached above the deck. In addition to the smokestack, two masts for sails had been erected fore and aft of the central column. Elizabeth knew from what Darcy had mentioned that these masts were a reluctant concession on the part of Nicholas to the investors back east.

"He says it shows a lack of faith in our own boat," Darcy explained, "and it will give the wrong impression to those ashore watching the New Orleans . But we must have masts for sails in the event that the engine fails. Though I respect the man, he has the strangest ideas about things. What does it matter what those ashore think of two masts? The safety of the boat and crew are more important than any considerations of showmanship."

"I understand his opinion. This trip is not just to prove a boat may move up and down the mighty Mississippi with ease, regardless of the flow of the current. It must sell the idea of steam travel, not just prove it."

Darcy frowned the moment the word sell crossed Elizabeth's lips. To have to even consider such a thing for a gentleman of his standing and education must have been a bitter weed in the salad. Elizabeth, though she had grown up in relative comfort, knew the pinch of barely enough funds in the house to keep food plentiful and clothing respectable. Darcy could know nothing of those particular worries and would most likely not deign to acknowledge it if he did.

Elizabeth did her best to convince Darcy that Mr Roosevelt had a valid point, though in the end, she agreed with Darcy that the safety of the ship was more important in the instance of an engine failure or irreparable damage to either of the paddle wheels. She was keenly aware that, though their marriage was a false one, they must present a united front to the world.

At the end of the day, whilst they dined at the Roosevelts', Darcy questioned Nicholas about the absence of his wife.

"She keeps to her room to gather her strength, for we leave the day after tomorrow. You will be there to see us off before returning to Philadelphia?"

"Of course," Darcy replied.

Elizabeth gave him a severe look, hoping to prod him to press the issue that was utmost in both their minds. Glimpsing her glare, Darcy raised his wineglass to his lips with an exasperated sigh before continuing.

"Mr Roosevelt—"

"Please, Fitzwilliam! Call me Nicholas. I know the English are more fastidious about such formalities, but you make me uncomfortable with your insistence on using my last name."

"Yes. Well… Nicholas, I think my wife is—"

Elizabeth reached her foot under the table to nudge Darcy on the knee. He jolted upright with wide eyes. Clearing his throat, he continued, "That is, my wife and I have some doubt as to whether Mrs Roos—I mean, Lydia, will be able to accompany you on this voyage. What will happen if that occurs?"

The older man seemed to deflate slightly, all the bravado and decisive declarations abandoning him momentarily.

"You touch on an important point. I would not typically discuss the mere idea of such an occurrence. She accompanied me, eventually heavy with child, when we made the six-month voyage down the river over two years ago. Once we reached New Orleans on the flatboat, we sailed back up the coast to New York and arrived just a day before Rosetta was brought into the world. Perhaps it was too much to expect such smooth sailing with this confinement."

Darcy remained quiet, giving the older man time to gather his thoughts for such a delicate topic.

"The truth of the matter is that there is another company racing to complete their own boat for such a trip. Ours is larger and will show with what ease cargo and passengers may be moved against the current at speeds that could only be dreamed of. Theirs is built solely for speed. They do not understand that not only must you show it can be done, you must demonstrate that it can be done with cargo, crops, livestock, and passengers. And that the passengers will be able to travel in comfort with few deprivations. The most essential, most dangerous passage will be over the Falls of the Ohio River. If that can be navigated without accident, I shall consider half the success of this venture achieved."

"Waterfalls! How in heaven's name shall a boat such as the New Orleans pass over falls?" Elizabeth exclaimed in wonder. "Surely, there are not waterfalls on a river such as the Mississippi."

"This natural impediment to trade is not on the Mississippi, it is on the Ohio River, before you even reach the Mississippi."

Elizabeth felt her first true flutter of fear at the prospect of the voyage. She turned her gaze from Mr Roosevelt to Darcy. His eyes were keen on her, observing her reaction. Mustering her courage in the face of such a daunting prospect—for she instinctively knew that Darcy would not even consider the trip if she seemed to be hesitant—Elizabeth forced some strength to rise up in her spine, sitting taller so that she gave the appearance of courage that she did not necessarily possess.

"I am certain that if you have deemed it safe enough for your wife, your child, and your unborn babe, then it will not be too great a challenge. It will be a success." Elizabeth gave a small smile as she made this declaration, hoping to convince both herself and Darcy.

"That is the spirit, Elizabeth. It will be a close shave, depending on the level of the water, but what is such a consideration to those with steel in their blood and courage in their heart? By Jove, I had never expected a fine English lady to display such determination!"

Elizabeth laughed heartily, but one glance at Darcy convinced her that he was not nearly so convinced about the boat and the falls meeting with no bad consequences.

"I need never experience it for myself, sir, for it is most likely that your wife will be more than capable of making the trip. Why, if she accomplished a similar feat on one of the flatboats I have seen from the shipyard, then a much more luxurious vessel such as the New Orleans will be pleasant indeed."

Elizabeth stole a glance at Darcy, her heart fluttering with uncertainty. He kept his gaze on the plate before him, making it an impossibility for her to observe his reaction.