Epilogue

T he rest of the journey of the New Orleans was positively mundane in comparison to the beginning and middle. After the night of the fire, the debris floating in the river began to lessen, and navigation became less of a challenge. They were able to stop at towns without being in danger of sinking the boat, and their maps were no longer useless as the bottom of the river was not as altered.

Elizabeth quickly gave away all of the funds she had previously accumulated from tours on the boat. The needs of those they encountered were too great for her to ignore, and she and Darcy kept only enough to have a comfortable voyage home.

More than once, Mr Baker complained to Clara May about Mr and Mrs Darcy. "Every time I come around a corner or open a door, there they are, in each other's arms, grasping at each other! It's a strange way for a married couple to behave. I don't recall them acting so when we started in Pittsburg."

Clara May huffed. "I think it is wonderful! I hope you still try to have a go at me as much when we've been married for as long."

"How long have they been wed?"

Clara May screwed up her eyes in thought. "Now that you mention it, she has never said. It is odd. You are right though, when they first came aboard, they were like a couple of nervous cats. Always sneaking looks at each other, barely touching, jumpy-like, you know?"

"Make no mistake, something was off."

"But now they are so different. They can hardly keep their hands off each other! Do you remember how they used to make such a fancy show of rising up to play cards some nights?"

"Course. Me and the fellows used to have a little laugh about it."

"I asked Mrs Darcy just today if they were going to play cards this evening, and she laughed and said, ‘Goodness, Clara May! I hope to never play a game of piquet again in my life. The mere thought of it is detestable'."

"I noticed they never sleep separate anymore."

"No, they don't. Strange. But let's forget about them for the moment so that you can tell me again how pretty I am under the light of the comet."

When the New Orleans reached the city of New Orleans, a grand ceremony was held to wed Mr Baker to the lady's maid of Mrs Darcy, followed by a rather boisterous celebration. Once everyone was too jolly to notice, Mr Darcy and Mrs Darcy slipped away and asked the same reverend to officiate another very discreet ceremony. Such a substantial tip was paid to both himself and his wife—who had acted as the sole witness—that their discretion was completely ensured. As the happy couple left, the reverend's wife whispered, "But I thought they were already married." To which the reverend only responded with a contented shrug. For in the city of New Orleans, many peculiar things were witnessed on a daily basis.

The Roosevelts joined them within a few weeks, as they had already been en route on a ship on the sea. Their family had grown to include a healthy baby boy. Nicholas Roosevelt demanded to hear almost every detail repeatedly. When Darcy began to become exasperated by the continual peppering of questions from Mr Roosevelt, Elizabeth would graciously step in and repeat what had already been said.

Many were stunned, some incredulous, by their retellings of the earthquake. It was only when more accounts arrived on the slower flatboats and sailboats that their account was universally accepted. News of the momentous trip of the New Orleans was quickly overshadowed by shocking tales of the earthquake. But the challenge had been overcome, and soon the boat was making rapid trips upriver to inland towns, taking passengers and goods in record time to new destinations. The tradesmen of the city took note, and the New Orleans was in high demand.

Within a fortnight of their arrival, both Darcy and Elizabeth began to long for home. Elizabeth had written to her family that she was returning, unable and unwilling to communicate the news of such monumental importance as her marriage. That, she would save. Darcy had received notices that news of their trip had sparked an increase of interest and orders for the steam engine. His hopes for the Darcy estate remaining intact and stable for the foreseeable future increased.

On the return voyage to England, Darcy and Elizabeth held each other close whilst standing on the deck of the ship, watching the night sky. The stars were brilliant and the moon large.

"Are you content, my love?" Darcy asked as he rested his cheek on top of her head.

"More than you can imagine. I have had the adventure of a lifetime. Our observations will hopefully help to bring new understanding to the young science of geology. And I met a man who, given time and proper instruction, may perhaps be tolerable in the role of my husband."

Darcy squeezed her tight until she giggled and squirmed out of his grasp. "Mrs Darcy, will you never cease teasing me?"

"Absolutely not. It would be unconscionable, for the occasional jest keeps you from perpetual solemnity. I consider it my most important duty as your wife."

Darcy pulled her back into his arms with a roughness that caused Elizabeth to laugh again.

"My true wife. In all ways. How it was torture to watch you, be so close to you day in and day out, pretending to be your husband but without the privileges of that role."

Elizabeth batted her eyes at him in a false act of innocent coquetry. "Privileges? What privileges could you be speaking of, my lord?"

Forgoing a response in words, Darcy pressed his lips hard to hers, savouring till he was certain that Elizabeth was beyond all doubt as to what privileges he could be referring to.

Breathless, Elizabeth pulled away. "I see. Those privileges you enjoy are a source of great happiness for me, as well."

She returned his kiss with one that matched his in heat. When they parted, Darcy said, "I think we should retire for the evening."

"Oh, capital idea, Mr Darcy. For I have longed for another game of piquet for several weeks."

"I hate piquet," he growled as he kissed her yet again.

"I could not agree more," she responded when their lips parted.

Darcy took her hand and began to walk her towards their cabin below decks.

Elizabeth cried out, her gaze skimming the night sky. Darcy paused, startled. "What is it? Are you well?"

"The comet, it is gone! For the first time in months, the night sky is empty of the Great Comet."

Darcy paused, noting, with a smile, that she was correct.

"Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said, bringing his hand to her heart as she clutched it tightly, "do you think we would have understood each other if we both had remained in England? Would we have come to love each other as we do now?"

"You mean if we had not had the benefit of a voyage across the sea, a comet, an earthquake, a disappearing island, and a fire?"

She smiled. "Do not forget the meteor shower. There was that rather bold one a few months ago."

"I am not certain we would have come to an understanding. There were so many false notions about each other and mistakes in pride."

"On both our accounts," Elizabeth added.

"More mine than yours, it cannot be denied."

"If you wish to accept the lion's share of the blame for both of our missteps, I will not argue you out of it."

"How kind of you," he responded dryly. "As I recollect, you claimed to be the lion in this relationship, and I the lamb. Therefore, the blame should rightly be yours to shoulder."

"I shall ignore that attempt to distract me for the moment."

"I can think of many other ways to distract you, my lamb." Darcy tilted his head to one side as he placed feathery kisses along the side of her neck.

Elizabeth pressed him away playfully. "But to return to my earlier question, is it your opinion that it took all of heaven and earth to move and shake so that we could understand each other properly?"

"It would seem so, my love," he murmured.

Unwilling to ponder the sad possibility of their having never comprehended the nature and heart of each other, Elizabeth firmly wrapped her arm under his. Mr and Mrs Darcy retired to their cabin for the evening, passionately content to be alone in each other's company. And it would always remain so between them in the coming years.