Chapter Twenty

A fitful night of sleep awaited Elizabeth after Darcy's departure. She tossed and threw off her covers. The close air was almost unbearable, and more than once she rose to pace the cabin, unable to sort through the tumult in her mind and heart.

Once, she placed her hand on the handle of her cabin door, wishing to walk the deck. However, the mere thought of encountering Darcy—under the blaze of the comet with the gentle sway of the boat beneath her—made her uneasy in a way she could not name. Her heart would lurch suddenly at the thought of having to see him again after such an embarrassing meeting as had occurred that night.

Her forehead rested on the door as she attempted to chase away the clear memory of Darcy, standing above her berth, angrily tossing the blankets aside as his knee rested on her bedding. Swallowing, she turned around, looking at the empty berth. The idea of lying there, on the pillow he had touched, made her flush to the roots of her hair with heated, restless anxiety.

She forced her step forward and made herself lie back down. Unbidden, the image of Darcy returning, standing over her as she slept, arose in her imagination. It was not an unpleasant conjuring, for it inspired a quickening of her heart and breath when the thought struck her as an intensely pleasurable one.

Foolish, foolish girl!

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and turned onto her side. The consciousness of what she was feeling in her heart was just beginning to come into focus. For so long, she had refused to give any consideration to these new sensations, for her mind and body had been busily employed with other concerns, and she labelled them as no more than the passing fancies of a young lady far away from home for the first time, in a land so foreign and different from her own.

Her heart and spirit refused to listen to reason as Elizabeth attempted to cajole herself out of the truth that stood and faced her—refusing to be denied any longer.

I begin to imagine myself liking Mr Darcy. What a ridiculous notion. A most proud, disagreeable man. But is he? No. Well…occasionally. He is so much more than those accusations I first used to describe him. Intelligent, thoughtful, considerate in the extreme, gentlemanly. True, he can also be high-handed, arrogant, and thoroughly taciturn—but there is so much more to the man that I now find it difficult to not admire him. Lizzy, you are not being wholly truthful. I no longer just admire him. I like him better than any other gentleman of my acquaintance. However, none of that matters. I would be alone in warm feelings. He is so clearly in mourning for the one who broke his heart. Thoughts of something more between us will only cause no end of torment and must cease at once. You can have a small admiration for him, as long as it grows into nothing more. Silly girl, you are not Lydia Bennet—with neither self-regulation nor reasonable thoughts in your head.

Arguments back and forth—between her mind and her heart—continued to rage as the night slowly progressed towards another warm dawn with a red, full sun beating down.

Several more days passed as the boat made its way to the city of Cincinnati. Despite the large crowd that greeted them, they paused only long enough to purchase coal and food, and to take a few people on the boat for a tour.

Their interactions out on the deck of the boat and when talking with the people that they encountered during moments ashore were pleasant and easy. It was a sharp contrast to the painfully awkward nights that were spent in each other's company whilst they played tense games of cards. Each spoke haltingly, with surreptitious glances and ruddy cheeks.

For her own part, Elizabeth put down the reason for her lack of comfort as the result of her growing realisation that she was becoming especially fond of Darcy. When they were out on deck, in a crowd, or among the crew for meals, it was a simple matter of veering her attention elsewhere to calm her agitated heart. Being closeted in a small room—alone with him and trying desperately to pay some sort of attention to the cards in her hand—Elizabeth felt she must be the most miserably poor piquet player of any in the world. Every innocuous move she made, whisking a curl out of her face, rearranging her cards, was laden with the flustering perception that his eyes were upon her, causing the flesh along her chest to tighten in the most exquisite discomfort.

As for his distracted demeanour during their card games, Elizabeth could only assume that—when compared to the mystery woman whom he had left in England—Darcy must find her lacking in every respect and was pained by the remembrance of the woman who could have actually been his wife during this adventure. These thoughts only added to her bashful distress. However, their card-playing ruse appeared to be working. There were no more curious looks from Clara May, and they were seen by the rest of the crew as a contentedly married couple.

"And will we stop for the night before we reach Louisville?" Elizabeth asked as she organised the cards after their game.

"No, we will attempt to press on till we reach the city, even if we must arrive after dark. Mr Jack is so familiar with the dangers in this particular section of the river that he is confident that it will be easy to navigate with the light of the comet. The only thing that will cause us to tie up for the night is if a fog came up unexpectedly."

"I see. Will you retire for the evening?"

Darcy looked away, shifting in his seat. "No, I will remain awake in case any trouble arises. But, if you wish, you should…" He nodded towards her berth.

Elizabeth stood and took her shawl in hand. Wrapping it over her shoulders, she said, "No, indeed not. I will anticipate seeing Louisville too much to close my eyes. The approach of the Falls is almost all I can think about."

Elizabeth moved to leave her cabin, too restless to remain within. Darcy stood to open the door.

"Just a moment," he said as he went back within, disarranged the covers of her bed, and then joined her on the deck.

The sun had long set, but the light from the comet and the moon cast an eerie glow on everything visible from the deck. As the shore slid by in tones of off-white, grey, and black, Elizabeth and Darcy moved to be near the pilot at the centre of the top deck. Standing at the wheel with Mr Jack, they viewed the strange night sky overhead.

Mr Jack yawned and gave his head a shake.

"If you think we should tie up for the evening, I will follow your guidance," Darcy said.

"I am just a tad weary, sir," Mr Jack replied. "But fear not, I can navigate these waters with my eyes closed. And the sky, unusual like it is, makes it almost like nights have abandoned us this winter."

"Yes, as you say, it is most singular."

"I believe we must be nearly flying along at this rate," Elizabeth said, her eyes darting around eagerly. "Almost fourteen miles an hour, by what I calculate."

Mr Jack glanced at Elizabeth with a smile, clearly appreciative of her grasp of the boat. "I believe you may be just about on the nose of it, Mrs Darcy. Just two more bends and the first lights of Louisville will be in sight."

True to the pilot's prediction, a few dim lights came into view after another half an hour. The entire crew was milling about on the decks by this time, eager to land at a town after almost a week of tying up to islands and large trees onshore.

"'Tis a shame, madam," Clara May said to Elizabeth. "The town will miss us landing in the dark like this. It always feels like such a show when we pull up to a dock filled with folk."

"Why, I had not thought of that. It will not nearly be such a feat to behold if the citizens wake up to find a large boat tied to the dock that was not there the evening before," Elizabeth replied, her brows drawing together. She turned and placed a hand on Darcy's forearm. "It will be awful if we miss an opportunity at a grand entrance."

His arm stiffened under her touch, and she withdrew it, suddenly aware of how accustomed she had become to touching him in these intimate, minor ways that were usual between man and wife. Ever since that first night of false card playing, she had attempted to lessen those moments that had become her habit, born of the necessity to convince those around them of their false marriage. In the last week, that habit now gave Elizabeth no end of startled, embarrassed moments.

She pulled back a step from him.

"It is of little consequence how we arrive in Louisville," Darcy said with a foreboding cast on his face. "The only thing of importance is that we refuel as rapidly as possible and make an attempt to pass over the Falls before the river dips any lower or the winter turns harsh and we find ourselves iced in for the rest of the season."

Elizabeth bit her lower lip. Before Darcy could protest, Elizabeth smiled as she leaned past Mr Jack and pulled the chain that hung down next to him. A loud, high blast of steam erupted into the glowing night—a sound that had never been heard before in this part of the world but would surely be heard many more times in the coming years.

"Elizabeth," Darcy exclaimed with exasperation. "This was one of the few times when we could arrive at a city with little spectacle and unnecessary attention."

Already, shouts and cheers could be heard as the city began to shake off the drowsy night and emerge from their homes with cries of wonder and surprise.

"I was just testing the release valve, dear. You need not be so disapproving."

Mr Jack gave her a sly grin before returning his full attention to wheeling into the dock. The entire town seemed to have roused themselves to witness the New Orleans as she came in with sparks flying skyward from her smokestack and the silence of the night was temporarily banished, replaced by the boisterous sounds of celebration.

Several hours later, after the engine was silent and the last well-wisher had returned to their comfortable home, Elizabeth paused before Darcy as he was walking her back to her cabin. She was not entirely certain whether it was her weariness causing her to imagine things or it was an actual occurrence, but a distinct, ominously low roar seemed to be everywhere she went. The engine was shut down, and there were no storm clouds to block the view of the stars and comet.

"Fitzwilliam, what is that sound I hear? Does the town have a mill that runs at all hours?"

"That rumble?"

"Yes, you hear it as well? I thought it may be my tired brain teasing me."

Darcy stepped closer with a rueful smile tugging up one corner of his mouth. "It is the roar of the Falls of the Ohio."

Fear gripped Elizabeth's throat, for she had never been near anything so formidable in her entire life. The sound was somewhat muted, but—in the same manner one knows a danger is lurking—she realised it was mighty beyond her imagination.

"Oh," Elizabeth said as she strained her gaze downriver, one hand unconsciously covering her heart. "It sounds…awfully…big."

"I suppose we shall see for ourselves, when the sun rises. Now you know why I have been particularly anxious to arrive here before the river becomes any lower."

"But will the New Orleans be able to succeed? Will we be safe?"

" You will be safe. For I plan to ask for a wagon and horses to carry you and Clara May to meet us farther downriver, past the danger."

For once, Elizabeth could not muster the courage to argue with Darcy. Again, she replied in a small voice, "Oh."

They stood in silence for a long moment, apparently neither wanting to be alone just yet. Darcy cleared his throat. "How could we possibly fail? With you by my side, anything may be accomplished."

She gazed up at Darcy in wonder and gratitude. Had he really said something so warm to her? Suddenly, the Falls did not seem so terrible after all. Elizabeth's fear was replaced by the more pleasant sensations of her chest tightening with a surge of warmth. Let the water roar and snarl all it wished, for her heart had wings to soar above it.

"I shall take my leave. We will have much to do tomorrow," Darcy said, without moving an inch from where he stood.

"Of course. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Another moment passed before Elizabeth stepped into her cabin and slowly shut the door. She pressed her back against the wood and wondered why she had not yet heard the footsteps of Darcy walking along the deck, away from her cabin door.