Chapter Twenty-One

T he fuel had been replenished with coal and their stocks of groceries resupplied. Darcy stood pacing on the dock, awaiting Elizabeth. She had spent the morning with the unenviable task of catching the local ladies up on Mrs Roosevelt's state of health.

Apparently, the exuberant Mr Roosevelt and his charming young wife had made many close friends during their preparatory voyage two years earlier. Everyone had been expecting the Roosevelts to walk down the gangplank with their daughter toddling along beside them and their giant of a dog.

Not for the first time, Darcy had noticed the citizens of the town had stopped in disappointed surprise upon first hearing an English accent from the unknown couple who captained the boat. Their reception could have been very different had it not been for his own charismatic, younger ‘wife'. Ever the one to bring a sound dose of reason to any situation, Darcy reflected that had Elizabeth not joined him on this adventure, he might have been in some danger of arousing the ire of the isolated citizens who populated the banks of these mighty rivers. Everyone seemed cognisant that a possible war with the British was on the horizon and greeted them accordingly whenever Darcy spoke the first words of introduction. It was solely due to Elizabeth's beaming smile and ready wit that any chill had been banished from their receptions.

He smiled and chuckled softly. With a shake of his head, he wondered at her ability to charm and see through the natural suspicions of those they met. Elizabeth really was the most remarkable woman whom he had ever encountered. His thoughts turned sour as he recollected how uncertain he still was of her regard.

It was apparent that Elizabeth thought of him in a much more pleasing light now than when they first met aboard the Jolly Sparrow . Though, her impression of him was so low at that moment—suspecting him of the worst sort of intrigues and motives—that perhaps it was not high praise to say that her opinion of him had improved.

Last night, standing in the light of the comet and moon, there had been a spark of quiet warmth, had there not?

That he had been overwhelmed by it was a certainty. But Elizabeth? Was he imagining things again? Just as he had at the ball at Netherfield when he believed her to be agreeing to a secret understanding?

With a scowl of frustration, Darcy wished for the observations of Bingley or Colonel Fitzwilliam, for he could no longer trust his own judgement when it came to anything involving Elizabeth Bennet. They were more adept at catching tones, glances, and movement than he. His talents in that arena were slight, at best, and apparently, with Elizabeth, absent altogether.

"I am not so tardy as to cause such a glare of disapproval, am I?" Elizabeth asked with a light laugh as she stepped up beside him.

His head whipped around. Elizabeth stood on the dock, beautifully radiant in her natural health and happiness and her eyes aglow in anticipation of their adventures. Her curls almost brushed the tops of her shoulders. Her cheeks had a brownish hue from the bright sun that reflected up from the waters of the river. All of the time outside had even given rise to a few, faint freckles. Though they were considered in poor fashion, Darcy loved the light specks that began to be visible along her nose and cheeks. In all his time knowing her, he could not summon a memory of a more pleasing or desirable image of Elizabeth.

"Indeed not. You are perfectly timed," Darcy said as he extended his arm for her to use as they walked to the cart they had rented for their jaunt. As always, a surge of pleasurable anxiety dashed through his chest as her gloved hand slid along his forearm and her weight pressed near him.

They joined the driver on the front bench of the cart as Mr Jack and the court-appointed pilot for the Falls climbed in the back. The party jostled out of the town and farther downriver. Once stopped, all scrambled down a steep embankment and stood on the shore of the Ohio River.

Both Darcy and Elizabeth now observed the cause of the persistent sound that could be heard in varying degrees throughout the city. Sometimes just a whisper of a hiss, sometimes a rumbling roar, depending on which way the wind blew.

As they stood mute, witnessing the tumult of water that awaited them—cresting, rolling, and supremely unforgiving—Darcy felt the first beginnings of doubt creep into his heart. For so long, he had been doggedly pursuing his course, utterly certain in his success, that the mere idea of failure was as a slight buzz of a mosquito in his ear.

Standing here now though, an unfamiliar smallness crept over him, allowing hesitation to harry him. He swallowed as they witnessed a boat, lighter and smaller than their vessel, bang along the rapids, crest the top of the Falls, and make the plunge to the waters below. It dipped frighteningly low, then bobbed back to the surface to face the remaining rapids and hidden snags beneath the Falls. Darcy blinked rapidly as he stood on the edge of hopelessness. It was such an unfamiliar sensation that he did not know if he could fully recover from a fall.

Then, cool fingers with no glove to hide their silky texture slid across his palm and squeezed his hand in a delicate, but decided grip. In a daze, Darcy turned to look down at Elizabeth. Her eyes shone up at him, bright but filled with veiled concern.

"And is this all?" Elizabeth asked with a mild smile. "I had expected it to be twice as tall and with alligators snapping away on each bank. 'Tis but a swell that we shall pass over in mere moments."

With amazement, Darcy realised that her concern had not been for the danger of the Falls, but for him. All the strength of courage flooded back into Darcy's limbs. What had he done to deserve such a friend as she? He was uncertain that he would ever succeed in being worthy of her love, but he knew he would never cease endeavouring.

He gently squeezed her hand back as she gave him a small nod. Mr Jack stepped up beside them as Darcy drew his hand from hers with a clearing of his throat.

"Will be a close shave, make no mistake about it, Mr Darcy. You must decide whether to give it a go or wait till a rain raises the level of the water. We have already lost about half an inch by my reckoning since yesterday evening. By tomorrow, our clearance will be but five inches or so."

"That is enough, is it not?" Elizabeth asked hopefully.

"It is tight," Mr Jack replied with a shake of his head. "Too tight a squeeze for a comfortable run. But Kyle Milston, the town pilot, says we may just squeak by."

"I have heard," Elizabeth said, "the ladies of the town speak of some boats that waited up to a year for a rainfall to make the clearance more substantial. With this warm weather, I am uncertain that it would be advisable to pause our journey for too long."

Darcy looked out at the roaring waters, hoping some additional information might appear to help him decide. Observing the sky, he could not see a single cloud, only the warm, reddish sun that was so particular to this winter season. Closing his eyes, he squeezed his hand tightly into a fist, remembering the sure, steady feel of Elizabeth under the flesh of his palm. Whilst that sensation lingered in his recent memory, the answer appeared before him, clear and pure.

"We leave tomorrow. I will not waste time here when it is so urgent to make this voyage a success. The space between the hull of the ship and the rocks below will have to be enough."

Mr Jack nodded and turned to consult with the other pilot. Elizabeth stood before Darcy, her hands tightly clasped in front of her, and said, "We will succeed. I have no doubt."

"Come, let us return and prepare for the morning. We will engage this cart and driver for tomorrow to transport you and Clara May downriver so that we may stop and collect you both after we go over the Falls."

"Clara May will be ever so grateful. She has no interest in making the trip over the Falls."

Darcy looked down at her and opened his mouth to ask if she were also grateful to be excluded from the frightening trip tomorrow. Then he shut it. There was a twinkle in her eye and a lightness to her step that gave rise to the suspicion that Elizabeth had no intention of staying ashore in the morning.

He was just about to question her when he felt her arm slide around his, her body leaning into his as they made the steep ascent back up the bank to the waiting cart. Once, he had to grab her by the waist to keep her from slipping back down. Darcy found that any determination to argue with her had vanished in a confused, but pleasurable, mist.

Darcy stood resolute on the deck, beside the two pilots as they cast off the next morning. As he had foreseen, when it came time for them to attempt to pass over the Falls of the Ohio, Elizabeth had refused to be placed on land and in the cart that was to carry her and Clara May downstream.

"You shall have to carry me bodily off this boat, Mr Darcy," she had declared angrily, with both hands perched on her hips.

It was the use of the ‘Mr' that gave him pause. When she was resolute in her decisions, that would slip back into her address of him. She would brook no argument. Darcy was simultaneously infuriated and captivated by this quality in her. The thought of tossing her over his shoulder and taking her by force down the gangplank, in front of the crew and the citizens, crossed his mind momentarily and did relieve his anxiety by giving rise to a smile of amusement at the image.

"As you wish, Elizabeth. Perhaps your presence is just the charm of good fortune that we need," he said with a bow as he continued to supervise the unloading of several non-essential items in order to lighten the weight of the New Orleans .

With a blasting whistle of the steam, the boat cast off and turned upriver, away from the Falls on the other side of Corn Island. The firebox was loaded with fuel and heated in anticipation of gaining as much speed as possible. The New Orleans chugged upstream rapidly, against the current, the paddle wheels spinning furiously. The gathered crowd on the dock was smaller, as some had positioned themselves downriver to witness the triumph or tragedy that was about to unfold. After a good distance was achieved, the boat turned to ride the current to make the boat fly as quickly as possible and headed straight for the Falls.

Against his better judgement, Darcy risked a glance at the dock as they sped past. Several of the men who had the weathered countenance of seasoned rivermen shook their heads and leaned in to mutter to each other. They expected death and mayhem, for who would know better the vicious whims of these waters than they?

Darcy felt a pain of anxiety in his breast, the certainty of knowing he was in the right that had been his constant companion for most of his life temporarily abandoned him. He tore his gaze from the dock and glanced to the stern of the boat from his post amidship next to the two pilots.

There was his purpose, his heart, his northern star, alight in her excitement as both her hands gripped the stern railing tight and fast. Elizabeth pulled her gaze from the surging waters they passed, their speed at the limit of what could be accomplished by the engine, to observe him. A smile broke across her face as a spray of water cast up and peppered her hair with liquid diamonds.

Darcy's heart soared with a potent tincture of the strongest courage. If such a singular, admirable lady was so bold and unafraid, he would be as well.

"All is well, Mr Baker?" Darcy yelled into the engine well. Mr Baker's face popped into view, clearly annoyed at being questioned at such a moment.

"Aye. All is well. The firebox is as hot as I've ever seen it. The engine is running without a hitch. I checked and re-checked every bolt and rod before we cast off."

"Excellent."

"And Miss Clara May is onshore? Are you certain?"

"Yes. She is safe downriver, waiting to join us."

Mr Baker opened his mouth, no doubt with a tart opinion of what he thought of Mrs Darcy being aboard at this moment, but pressed his lips shut again and ducked back to his work.

Darcy glanced up at the beam overhead, observing as it rocked back and forth furiously, much like the see-saw of his youth that still stood at Pemberley. Back in the engine well, the sun and moon gears revolved at a dizzying pace.

The trees of Corn Island flew past as the New Orleans sped towards the first of the rapids. Both pilots had their faces set in a deadly concentration as they wove the boat through the long, hidden shafts of rock that the water concealed. Deckhands manned various points along the railings, ready to shout out instructions to avoid sudden outcroppings of rocks or newly submerged trees. The deck below began to heave and buck, the stately New Orleans suddenly transformed into a wild, wilful beast, eager to toss its riders.

Within mere seconds, the boat finally came to encounter its greatest challenge of the entire voyage. With Darcy's breathless anticipation, the boat heaved upwards and time seemed to halt its forward progress as, for one excruciating moment, all aboard clutched to whatever was handy to ensure that they were not flung into the churning, foaming waters below. The entire boat gave a moaning wail as it hovered in the air at the height of the Falls. With a mighty, muted roar, the New Orleans descended and splashed below the deafening Falls, waves of water curling out from the bow in ghostly, liquid curtains. Everything and everyone on board was soused with river water.

Darcy heard a shriek from the stern as he shoved his dampened locks from his face. Terror clutched his heart. Whipping around and taking a step in her direction, Darcy then halted. For he now saw that the shriek had been one of exhilarated joy, not mortal fear. Elizabeth was laughing, still holding tight to the railing, her damp dress clinging to her legs, hips, and breasts—making as alluring a spectacle as Darcy had ever witnessed.

Her gaze met him with the broadest smile imaginable upon her face. He smiled back, his heart swelling with the sure knowledge that anything was possible with Elizabeth by his side. The remaining ripples and eddies gave a few more moments of exhilaration, but nothing to match that initial wild, unexpected ride.

When calm waters cradled the boat, Darcy walked to the stern. Elizabeth was leaning over the railing whilst looking out at the wake of the ship and the remnants of the Falls in the distance. Her hands still clenched the wood, her knuckles white with effort.

"Are you well, Elizabeth?" he asked, though the answer was apparent by the excited glow in her countenance. She turned and threw her arms around his neck with a cry of delight. Darcy could only laugh and lift her with his arms around her waist. Turning in a circle, he held her aloft and clutched her slim frame tight to his body, overcome by relief, joy, and being able to momentarily give vent to his endless reservoir of love for her without giving offence or earning censure.

Elizabeth released her hold on his neck and slid to the deck. With scalded cheeks and rapid breath, she stepped back as he reluctantly let her slide from his grasp.

"Forgive me, I was overcome with happiness that we are not cast upon the rocks and wrecked. Oh, Fitzwilliam, it was a raging success, was it not?" she exclaimed with a laugh.

"If the hull and the engine suffered no ill effects, I would then venture to state that we may consider this trial run a success."

"Not just a success, a triumph! In such a moment as this, you must be ready to declare your victory from the highest mountain and with your loudest voice. What a joy it is to come out unscathed on the other side of such danger. I am so happy, I hardly know which way is up!"

Darcy stepped forward, suddenly emboldened by the idea that her rosy cheeks and heaving chest were the result of the one emotion that was more powerful than those of relief, fear, gratitude, or any other. Clutching both of her hands in his, he gazed into her eyes and said, "I think I will leave the declarations for those more suited to the task. Words and expressions come so much easier to you than me. But, when pressed, I am able to say what is close to my heart without ceremony. You must allow me to tell you…" His words faltered as his swelling chest wished to proclaim more than just his joy at having made it through the deadliest part of their journey unharmed. His love was pounding on his throat, demanding to be permitted to announce itself. A proposal of marriage was just beginning to take shape in his mind. Then his reason took command. His honour forbade it. What if she felt nothing in return? Or, worse, accepted his attention out of a sense of obligation and dependence? "I…I must be permitted to thank you. If it were not for your steady assuredness in this venture and my decisions, I am not certain that we would have succeeded."

"Oh, yes," she replied with a puzzled draw to her brow. "Of course you have my support, Fitzwilliam. I hope I have never given you cause to doubt it, though we may disagree at times. That is a natural occurrence between two people who have such high opinions—occasionally unwarranted high opinions—of their own discernment and judgement."

"I would never include you in such a grouping, I assure you," Darcy replied softly as he released her hands and turned. "Unless I am much mistaken, the hull of the ship scraped against the rocks as we passed through that second ripple. I should instruct that we do a thorough inspection when we land for Clara May."

"Quite. I believe I felt that particular jolt as well. It was the one moment when I feared a set-to."

"But we made it through the danger sound and whole. Elizabeth, I—"

At that moment, a very proud Mr Baker walked up to them. "You see, sir? The engine did not fail us for a moment. Everything held up beautifully, like a song. I cannot wait to tell Miss Clara May. She was so worried. I had to talk some sense into her and assure her all would turn out well."

A high colour of red came to his already naturally ruddy face as he no doubt remembered those moments with Elizabeth's maid. Not for the first time, a sharp slice of envy cut into Darcy.

For what can impede the course of their courtship? Lucky fellow. They leave nothing to the imagination with the way they look at each other. There are no considerations of rank, rules of honour, great fortunes hanging perilously close to destruction.

"Well done, Mr Baker. I expected nothing less," Darcy said as he nodded his approval. "Now, if you will excuse us, I think my wife and I should consult with the pilots."

"Mr Darcy?" Mr Baker asked, stepping closer.

"Yes?"

"May I have a word for a moment?" He glanced towards Elizabeth with meaning. "On a private matter."

Darcy frowned at the presumption of the fellow, to speak before his supposed wife in such a way. But Elizabeth, ever the one to catch meanings and hints without being insulted, merely said, "I should freshen up my hair and gown. I must look an absolute fright."

Darcy watched as she retreated to her cabin—her slight curves fully on display in the clinging, damp fabric—and firmly suppressed the urge to state that he could not recall her ever looking so bright and becoming.

"What is it?" Darcy snapped.

"Well, it is a delicate matter," Mr Baker muttered. "For the girl has no father for me to ask. And since you being the captain and the like, I thought I should consult with you. When we reach New Orleans, I would like to ask Clara May for her hand. I wanted to see the New Orleans safely over the Falls before I decided. Do I have your approval? What with her being your wife's maid and such. Though I know she is truly in the employ of the Roosevelts…"

"You were right and proper to consult with me." Darcy could only smile as he looked down, noting with some bitter merriment that it was he who was so frequently consulted about proposals when he seemed incapable of making himself understood and known to the one woman he had ever wished to make his wife. "If you are fairly certain of the lady's regard for yourself, then I can see no objection to be raised."

Mr Baker's wide smile and mouth full of teeth raised Darcy's mood. Even if he never knew this sort of happiness, it was pleasant to see it in others. "Just be certain that you are a complete gentleman at all times whilst we are on this voyage. I would hate to hear of any impropriety that may occur. Then I would have to reconsider my blessing."

Confused and suddenly abashed, Mr Baker simply nodded and looked down, causing Darcy to speculate that perhaps a bit of impropriety had already occurred. He sighed at his own lot of frustrated, forced closeness. The card games while locked together in Elizabeth's cabin were a source of ridiculous torture that Darcy was bearing with weakening resolve.

"Come," he declared with a friendly slap on Mr Baker's back. "Let us consult with the pilots. There is still the hull to inspect and Miss Clara May to retrieve from the shore."

Mr Baker smiled and set his hat atop his head, askew, but proud. For a flash of a moment, Darcy wondered what Caroline Bingley would have to say, seeing him with his hand on the back of this American engineer, going to consult with river pilots, hoping to stand up at the wedding of this rough and tumble fellow and a lady's maid.

And to imagine, for the sake of money, for just a moment, I considered marrying Caroline Bingley. It seems so foolish now, knowing I can be happy with so much less and in the company of folk who are not in my typical sphere. If only I could know the state of Elizabeth's heart…