Chapter Nineteen

T he New Orleans approached Wheeling an hour before the sun set. Darcy felt his chest constrict uncomfortably when he saw that the dock was absolutely packed with people in high anticipation of the boat and its remarkable crew. He groaned a little, thinking no one could hear him.

But then, a sensation that he adored and had come to rely upon ran up his arm, shoulder, and overtook his heart. The pressure of Elizabeth looping her arm through his, looking up at him with an encouraging smile, playing the part of devoted, loving wife. Not long ago, this would have caused him no end of dismal thoughts, knowing it was unreal. But her humour, smile, and warmth had slowly chiselled away at those morbid ruminations till all he was left with was a pang of regret. The better feelings were stronger now and the sweet always dominated the bitter in such moments.

"There is your crowd, Elizabeth."

"So I see, now observe how I wave to them as we pass."

She lifted her hand and vigorously gave a greeting as they stood on the port side of the boat. The cheers, however, turned to dismay as the boat passed the onlookers by.

"Now, Mr Jack," Elizabeth called over her shoulder to the man at the wheel. The New Orleans was several hundred feet past the town of Wheeling when it turned round and ran against the current at a previously unseen, remarkably rapid three miles per hour. They moved to the starboard side, and she waved again.

"Mr Darcy, I believe a little acknowledgement from you would be appropriate."

"As you wish, Elizabeth," he grumbled, making little attempt to disguise his distaste for the moment, even for her sake. He lifted his arm and gave the crowd a wave. They burst into cheers again, clearly amazed at the feat the boat was accomplishing.

"There now, that was not so bad, was it?" Elizabeth teased.

He sighed in frustration, still not approving of what he saw as mere frivolities when it came to the larger task of making the trip as rapidly and successfully as they could. They tied up at the dock and were greeted by a press of locals, all anxious to catch a glimpse of the boat. There was some confusion as many of those present had been anticipating greeting the Roosevelts and remembered their stop a few years before.

Elizabeth spoke in a low tone to one of the most important-looking matrons of the city.

"You see, as the time for departure drew near, there were concerns about Lydia's ability to make this voyage. The doctor advised against it, given her delicate condition."

"Delicate condition? Why, she was expecting the last time they made this trip, such a hardy creature she was, and that did not stop her then."

"It was decided—at the very last moment and against our natural inclination—that my husband and I should replace them. It was done with great reluctance on our part, for it is just that the Roosevelts themselves should have had this adventure. However, how could we decline? The doctor had to stress his opinion most determinedly before she could decide that her health may not have been able to meet the rigours of this trip."

The ladies of the town nodded and muttered among themselves, apparently approving of Elizabeth and her husband stepping in.

"It is a good thing you did take her place. Having children is worrisome enough—there is no need to be on a boat in the wilderness in addition."

Darcy could see a very distinct hue of pink on Elizabeth's cheek. Most likely, never in her life had she been forced to discuss such a delicate topic with so many people with whom she had just made an introduction.

Darcy was perturbed that the local dignitaries had forced their way into his notice in a manner that precluded his ability to further listen to anything Elizabeth was saying to the wives.

"A seven-foot hull!" Mr Linsly, the mayor, exclaimed with enthusiasm. "Why, I recall Mr Roosevelt stating that the boat would have a seven-foot hull. It is unreasonable to expect it to make it through the Falls of the Ohio unscathed, sir. As I told Mr Roosevelt two years ago, it is unreasonable and dangerous!"

"I had extensive discussions about this very point with Mr Roosevelt. I assure you, all precautions will be taken. And the hull is twelve feet, not seven as had been originally anticipated."

The men around him gasped and murmured. Many were shaking their heads mournfully as this new information was bandied about, intermingled with predictions of disaster. Darcy inhaled deeply, yearning to return at once to the relative peace of the river. He would have cast off immediately and left the gaping locals if they had not also been in need of wood and coal for the firebox of the engine. The engine took an enormous amount of fuel to keep the paddle wheels strong. Already, Mr Baker had mentioned a few ideas to make the process more efficient.

Being the tallest of the assembled group of men, he glanced over at Elizabeth and saw with what ease she smiled and conversed with the women around her. As she swept her hand to emphasise an important point, Darcy longed for that evening so they could be sequestered in her cabin for a brief round of cards, alone and hoping to give the impression to the crew that they were man and wife spending time in each other's company.

He caught a few of her words—"every modern convenience…luxurious, well-appointed accommodations…such rapid, smooth transportation…" His heart thrilled when she paused just long enough to flash her smile in his direction. It steeled his blood to face the barrage of noisy questions and dire predictions that he found himself mired in.

"Yes, yes. The hull was built slightly differently than originally planned. It will be more dangerous, but I have full confidence in our pilot, and an additional pilot will be court-appointed to us in Louisville to lead us through the Falls. That is why we press on so rapidly, before this dry, hot weather makes the passage truly impossible."

Darcy pressed his lips together, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. But in its place was a newly launched, equally noisy exchange about how unusually warm the winter had been so far. Darcy stood silently nodding his head and adding in the occasional "Quite… True… I am uncertain…" to steer the conversation from himself back to the men.

A rough-looking fellow with a mean look in his eye pressed himself forward. "And what say you that it may be that you yourself—with that contraption that looks like a floating sawmill—are causing the hot weather? You and that devil-tailed comet in the night sky? Could be that this here is no more than an English plot to ruin us."

"Now, Elijah," Mr Linsly said with a nervous laugh, "Mr Darcy had to take the place of Mr Roosevelt at the very last moment. That is no great surprise, given that Mrs Roosevelt was expecting for a second time. Why, my wife was so worried for his young wife during their last voyage."

"Maybe it is all happenstance, and maybe it is more. That is all I says," Elijah stated, running a hand over his wild, grey and black beard. "But I'll wager that this fire canoe is snagged and sunk on a corpse-maker before it even reaches Louisville. That is what the natives call it, the fire canoe."

To Darcy's chagrin, the man spat on the ground, turned, and walked away. His jaw clenched as he stepped forward to grab the fellow by the shoulder and spin him round for the act of disrespect. Mr Linsly's hand shot out and rested on Darcy's arm.

"You must forgive Elijah—he is the town eccentric."

Darcy drew himself upright, allowing the anger to recede. He glanced over to Elizabeth, hoping to catch her eye and return to her side. To his amazement, she was walking up the gangplank to reboard the New Orleans with a gaggle of the local ladies following her, tittering and laughing in amazement.

"I see your lovely wife is giving a tour."

A young man walked up. "Yes, for twenty-five cents each, she is taking a tour around the boat! Can I join, Father?"

"Why, of course! I will go as well."

Almost at once, the crowd that Darcy had been wishing away with such vehemence began moving en masse towards the gangplank as Darcy fumed with heated cheeks.

An admission fee? Elizabeth said nothing of that. I had no notion that we would be stooping to such lowness. This is utterly insupportable! What if word finds its way back to England?

Realising such a speculation was ridiculous—for the more valid concern would be the discovery of Elizabeth parading around as his supposed wife—Darcy followed the group, fully intending to raise this issue with Elizabeth that evening.

Tired and out of sorts by the activity of the day after arriving in Wheeling, Darcy barely spoke at all through dinner on the boat that evening. Invitations to dine in town had been politely declined as they anticipated a very early start and did not wish to feel the consequences of a late night that was heavy with ale and rich foods.

Darcy pulled Elizabeth's chair out and escorted her back to her cabin. They walked silently, arm-in-arm, till they were in Elizabeth's cabin with the door shut.

"Oh, Fitzwilliam! Two pounds! We made eight dollars today from the tour alone. I am so excited."

Her cheeks were glowing with satisfaction and triumph. However, Darcy could not join in her celebratory mood. "What were you thinking? Charging admission to tour the boat? You never mentioned such a spectacle to me. Are we mere tradesmen? Out to make a profit by any means necessary?"

Darcy immediately regretted the tone with which he spoke to Elizabeth. Her warm colour faded and, unless he was mistaken, she blinked rapidly against a swell of moisture in her eyes. The wan cast was momentary, for her cheeks enlivened again, except this time the source was anger, not pride.

"Firstly, keep your voice down. This is a small boat. Secondly, what can the master of Pemberley possibly know of deprivation that would put you in a position to pass judgement on me? There have been several winters when the only decent pair of gloves I possessed were ones that I had mended repeatedly. I am not so foolish to compare my hardships with those that we have witnessed since arriving here in America…I am not so depthless as that. However, I have cast off all friends and family—I am alone, essentially, on the opposite side of the globe—and have no money except the few coins in my purse! Mr Roosevelt—"

"That man is a grasper of the worst sort! You heed his advice? A lady, daughter of a gentleman?"

"I am not so high and mighty as to ignore good sense when I hear it. He had planned on charging for tours, and I am simply doing as he advised. It is our human nature to value and covet what has cost a pretty penny. A tour that costs the townsfolk will make a booked passage on the boat that much more precious and sought after."

Darcy groaned and turned from her, no less infuriated and offended. It was then that he saw the little table in the centre of her room. Two chairs placed almost side by side, a lit candle, an open bottle of wine, two glasses, and a very tidy deck of cards set with care on Elizabeth's finest handkerchief. It smote his heart. The scene spoke of intimacy and careful attention, laid out by one who anticipated the pleasure of company.

Darcy almost hit his head with frustration, for he had spoilt the evening beyond redemption with his sharp accusations and supercilious judgements.

Before he could turn back and offer an apology, Elizabeth strode past him, pulled one of the chairs as far from the other as possible to the other side of the table, and sat heavily. Picking up the cards, she began to shuffle and deal.

"I am now more convinced of the importance of my minor venture, not less. Now I will be well set up at the end of this voyage. I may very well be able to afford to travel back to England or to a city in America and keep myself in lodging and food for a fair amount of time."

"But, you will have your wages, from me! In fact, I am happy to give you what you require now." Darcy volunteered in a softer tone, "And to provide you with return passage. That is what I intended—"

"No. You have already parted with more than you anticipated with the purchase of my clothes and the extra rooms at inns along the way. If I had been a young man, you would have been able to see me lodged in the barns or kitchens, not in the nicest rooms that each inn had to offer."

"Elizabeth, I cannot—"

" Mr Darcy, I am not your wife. You will not dictate to me what you will and will not allow. Now sit, please. The cards are dealt. We must give the impression to the rest of the crew that we are having a pleasant time in each other's company."

Not wishing to appear to have given in to her dictates, even though he felt himself to now be in the wrong, Darcy said, "I am in no mood for cards this evening."

He sat, crossed his arms and legs, and stared at the wall opposite him.

"As you wish, sir."

Elizabeth gathered the cards, went to her dresser, and threw them in a drawer. Taking up a book, she sat back in her chair and began to read, ignoring him completely.

There they sat, in silent, simmering resentment. Darcy did take a drink and offered Elizabeth one as well, only to be turned down in as short a reply as could be deemed polite.

It was not how Darcy had hoped this evening would unfold. An appropriate amount of time passed to give the impression that they had attended to marital relations. Darcy stood and went to her bed. After tearing at the blankets and punching the pillow, he turned to leave.

Elizabeth stood before the door, shocked. "Why on earth did you do that?"

"In case Clara May returns to you this evening, it must appear as though we—we—never mind."

He gently pressed Elizabeth to one side as he opened the door.

"Goodnight, Elizabeth," he said softly, pausing just before her.

She blinked up at him, those eyes piercing his soul through till it was a ghost of its former self.

"Oh—I understand now," she whispered, glancing back at the tumultuous berth. "I— Well, goodnight, Mr Darcy."

Darcy could not be entirely certain, for the glow of the comet was particularly vivid that evening, but he believed he saw something more than friendship in her eyes. Her full lips seemed to be whispering for him to come closer whilst remaining perfectly still and slightly parted. Dizzy from the celestial blaze above and the gentle sway of the boat below, Darcy felt as if he were being drawn towards her, the power of his passionate love consuming him beyond his control.

Forcibly, Darcy recalled the inequality of their conditions and the closeness of their circumstances. In a situation where she had no recourse to avoid his presence and he would not be able to avoid meeting her, he would not risk pressing his attentions upon her when he was still utterly uncertain whether she would welcome and return them. Remembering the future days of close quarters they could expect, he inhaled deeply, hoping a breath of warm air would cool his torturous impulses. Darcy leaned back from Elizabeth, shocked at how close they had drawn together.

Tearing his gaze from her, he replied again, in a thick voice, "Goodnight, Elizabeth."