Chapter Five

T he previous three weeks had been a whirlwind of activity and organisation the likes of which were wholly new to Darcy. It had not been at all disagreeable when he had time to reflect upon it. It was true that learning the various intricacies of the Boulton and Watt steam engine had been challenging and occasionally dangerous, but it had pressed his intellect to reach beyond what was familiar and comfortable. His mind was excited. Often, when he should have been sleeping soundly from exertion and exhaustion, too many thoughts of all he had learnt and what was expected of him raced through his awareness, making slumber an impossibility.

The meetings with Mr Boulton, Mr Watt, and Mr Murdoch had been an experience that had humbled Darcy and awakened in him a fire to achieve success in this one wise investment of his father's. The men had been dubious and reluctant to allow a gentleman to undertake the journey to America to oversee the installation of the engine into the boat, the New Orleans . However, Darcy had insisted that he meant to be fully involved in this venture in order to ensure that it was not a failure. The men were completely unaware of the necessity for the venture's triumph. He speculated that they believed it was no more than a mad whim of a bored gentleman.

Darcy had learnt from his father's mistake—the very grave error of allowing others to supervise too extensively the responsibilities that, at their terminus, resided solely under the providence of the head of the Darcy household. This was his and his alone to repair. He would not lose sight of this one last thread of redemption that he could take hold of to pull himself, Georgiana, and those who relied on him out of the mire of precarious finances.

Darcy stood on the dock, closely observing the long arms of the booms swing the delicate copper boiler, the heavy masonry base, and the instruments and piping—all meticulously packed and padded away into crates—and lower them into the hold of the ship. With a worried glance around him, Darcy pulled up the collar of his greatcoat even higher, hoping to block both the weather and any recognition of himself by an acquaintance who might be at the dock as well.

Colonel Fitzwilliam stood next to him, muffled up against the bluster and whipping wind of the day. His cousin crossed his arms in front of his chest as another squall of stinging mist buffeted them. A crate swung back and forth, the ropes singing through the sharp weather. Darcy hissed in an anxious breath. It was the last one to be lowered down into the ship's hold.

"Really, Darcy, you take too much upon yourself! To involve yourself in"—Colonel Fitzwilliam dropped his loud voice to a harsh whisper that just carried on the wind—"involve yourself in trade ."

"This is hardly just a matter of trade. It is also an advancement of great scientific and technological import. If this is successful, it will be the most fantastic leap since the invention of the sail."

"But, surely you can remain here in England and test your boat engine, can you not? Perhaps even on the lake at Pemberley. Why must you traipse off to some stream in America?"

"The Mississippi River is no little stream. In fact, there are few waterways in all of Europe to compare it to. Perhaps the Nile, or the Amazon, is more massive, but if this engine works upon the waters there, it will be no small matter to master the movement of rapid, reliable trade along all of the rivers in England and Europe."

"Listen to yourself… Look at you, standing out in the elements on a dock in London. Mr Darcy of Pemberley!"

"I would have expected a little more support from you, cousin. You begin to sound very much like our aunt, Lady Catherine."

Colonel Fitzwilliam grumbled into his muffler in response to that reprimand. Darcy pressed on. "You who are a second son and must make something of himself in the world can surely sympathise. Besides, as a man of the military, I would have thought you to be far more comprehending of the implications of this. If we do not master this first, do you really think Napoleon will not attempt it? Then, even the English Channel and our superior navy would not protect us from his ships of soldiers that could move with ease against the wind and tides."

Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned as Darcy's last sentence finished. "Surely, the mastery of our captains and admirals will be able to outmanoeuvre a glorified teapot, running on nothing more substantial than a bit of steam. Besides, is there no one else to undertake this? Seems awfully precipitous and dangerous. Not like you at all."

"As my father was the primary investor in this particular project, I have decided to trust it to no one else. It was partially my fault. Had I been more open as to what I knew of Wickham's true nature, perhaps I could have prevented this by decrying his character more forcefully to my father. It was partly my reserve that allowed Wickham's nature to be continually misunderstood. As you know, there were several instances of youthful indiscretion that Wickham encouraged me into. To tell my father of all of his debaucheries would have exposed me to censure as well."

Colonel Fitzwilliam, a man who had seen more of the world beyond Darcy's experience, laughed aloud. "Your minor instances of wildness compared to the viciousness of Wickham! Come, come. Those can hardly be grouped together. You could have told your father of them without much chance of losing his respect."

" Now , I agree with you. However, then, I was a young man of not yet two and twenty, and I perhaps held my father on too tall a pedestal. If he were alive today, I would reconsider my lack of openness with him. It is all too late now, and I have made up my mind to see this through personally."

Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head in disbelief as the last crate was lowered into the hold of the Jolly Sparrow . A sharp buffet of swirling rain and wind caused both men to hold their hats to their heads. Darcy's jaw gripped tight as he kept his other reasons to himself. Yes, he desired to rebuild some of the respect he had for his father by seeing this one sound investment through to the end. That and the re-establishment of stronger sources of income were among the most vital. But also, hidden under all the other logical impulses was the steady, overwhelming desire to make an offer for Miss Elizabeth Bennet's hand with a clear conscience. She alone would have been enough for Darcy to make this trip.

Elizabeth will wait for me. She practically declared as much aloud at the ball at Netherfield.

Darcy frowned as he wondered whether he should have asked her for her hand anyway. To make the agreement secure and strong. However, a secret engagement was a shameful degradation into which he would not have attempted to persuade Miss Elizabeth Bennet. But, perhaps he should have taken that precaution. What if she did not wait for him? He chased off such an improbable possibility with a shake of his head. For what woman would refuse an offer of marriage from Fitzwilliam Darcy? Even if he sold half of Pemberley's land, he would still be a husband worth ten times what any other suitor could offer.

Absurd to even imagine that she would entertain a rival suitor when I left her in hopes of me.

"I say," Colonel Fitzwilliam shouted over the gale, "you have made this all sound so adventurous and bold that I am feeling a bit of envy. Even the taint of the word trade is not enough to make you change course, eh? Oh well, you always have been the most obdurate fellow I have ever met."

"You will have adventures of your own, I am sure. Keeping an eye on Georgiana will fall solely upon your shoulders for the duration of my trip. As we have learnt, a young woman at this time in her life is susceptible to many dangers."

"Yes, it was fortunate that you had the impulse to visit her in Ramsgate and prevent Wickham from eloping with her. You need not worry about Georgiana, though I fear I could not say the same for you. What you are undertaking sounds perilous, and my thoughts will be with you. It is a wild speculation."

"And, if successful, the speculation will be profitable."

"Profit! Speculation! I never thought I would hear those words from your mouth spoken with such seriousness. Were you not supposed to have an assistant for this voyage?"

"Yes." Darcy huffed as he glanced around the dock in irritation. "We corresponded only once, and he was very insistent that he would be here. Mr Cromtook placed the advertisement. It was all so hastily done, I cannot be certain of his character. However, there were no other applications for the position." He cleared his throat before continuing in a strained tone, "If anything happens to me… Georgiana— You must—"

"Darcy, I refuse to allow you to finish that sentence," Fitzwilliam said with a shake of his head and his eyes squeezed shut. "Your sister is having a lovely time with Lady Matlock. I have not seen so many boxes of new gowns in all my life! My mother is quite delighted, you know. Having raised three sons and with no granddaughters yet, it has been such a treat for her to dress and train up Georgiana as she sees fit. Her companion, Mrs Annesley, has been a real treasure. And, unless I am mistaken, your sister is enjoying herself enormously. I have observed that the smaller the box, the greater the cost. Some of the jewellery they have purchased makes my father groan! All will be well. The sea may be perilous, but once you get to America, all will be well. It will be a pleasant cruise. Lovely and free of calamity. It is just a river, after all. How dangerous can it be?"

Darcy smiled broadly, his anxiety soothed by his cousin's kind words of encouragement. He extended his hand to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and they shook with all the warmth and regard that may be seen between amicable brothers.

"Watch it!" cried Colonel Fitzwilliam.

A gust of wind rocked them as a young man barrelled past. He jostled Colonel Fitzwilliam, and the lad dropped his bag. Darcy snatched it up and grabbed the boy by the collar of his jacket. The ruffian's face was wrapped up tight in a muffler and a cap was pulled down low. A pair of bright eyes full of indignant outrage flashed up at Darcy, causing him to release his grip. The lad seized his bag and rushed up the gangplank of the ship.

"Why, I should tan that boy's hide if the weather was not so beastly," Colonel Fitzwilliam exclaimed as he straightened his hat and jacket. Another buffeting of misty, chilled wind caused both men to turn their backs to the gale. An officer from aboard the Jolly Sparrow yelled towards them about the tide turning and the need to leave as soon as possible.

After a firm pat on the back from his cousin and a promise to write requested and pledged, Darcy gingerly made his way up the gangplank, fearful of losing his step and falling into the space between the boat and the dock. He shuddered at the mere thought and hoped that this voyage would be uneventful. Once his boots hit the deck, Darcy's racing heart calmed, and he chided himself for thinking too long and hard on misfortunes that were unlikely to occur. He had so thoroughly prepared for every possible contingency, there was little chance that anything he had not foreseen could occur.

Despite the squally weather, he remained on deck as the gangplank was lifted, lines were cast off, and only a few of the sails were unfurled. The wood beneath his feet lurched unexpectedly as the ship eagerly made its way towards the sea.

The start of the voyage was rough and wild. The temperamental winds did not abate. The ship heaved and lurched, but not in a manner that caused alarm among the men as they went about their business of calmly managing the sails so they would not tear in the sharp, sudden gusts.

Darcy observed it all with interest. It had been several years since he had been aboard a ship, and his enjoyment was acute. He was one of those rare souls who suffered hardly at all from the ill effects of a voyage when the seas would swell and dip. The spray of salt water on his face, causing his usually well-tamed hair to curl and fly about, invigorated him in a way that life on land rarely did. Feeling uncommonly gregarious, Darcy turned about until he spotted the captain behind the wheel, speaking with the helmsman.

He approached Captain Hansley and congratulated him on the successful departure from England.

"Aye, it was well done. I must apologise for the hasty departure. The tide turned and the wind was to our back for the time being. I thought we should take advantage of it. You are well settled in your berth? I hope the accommodations are to your liking."

"I am pleased with the cabin. It is snug, but suitable. One must be prepared for a few deprivations when living so close on a ship."

"Will you join me for dinner this evening?"

"How gracious. Thank you. I will gladly accept."

"I am sorry there are few passengers to converse with. So many have been made skittish by the talk of war with America that the last two voyages have been mostly cargo. And your man? Will he be joining us for dinner? He is more than welcome."

Darcy frowned and turned to look at Captain Hansley. "My manservant stayed in London. Once he had arranged my luggage, he departed the Jolly Sparrow . There was no mistake in him staying aboard, was there?"

"Not him. The other fellow. Little, young lad. A real stripling of a thing, barely came above my shoulder. Said he was your assistant and went directly below deck before we had even departed. He looks as though he could use several square meals! Hardly a pound of meat on those bones of his."

"Yes… And which berth is his? I did not have the opportunity to greet him properly when we were in port."

After learning which cabin was assigned to his tardy assistant, Darcy stalked below deck, fuming. His suspicion that the rude boy who had tumbled into Colonel Fitzwilliam and his new assistant were one and the same soured Darcy's mood.

There had been no helping it. The quick timing of the voyage and the hasty response to the one letter of interest that Mr Cromtook received had conspired to make it impossible to meet the man before leaving. There had been no response to Darcy's letter telling the lad where to meet him. Nor had he been particularly surprised by this, given the hurried way in which everything had been arranged.

Darcy heaved one way, then the other as he walked down the tight passage to the door in the bow of the ship. His own, more spacious accommodations were in the aft, where the ship was wider and the rooms better suited to one of Darcy's height and broad chest.

Without a knock, he banged the door open. There, upon the tiny bunk, was the curled lump of humanity that was his sorry excuse for an assistant for the next few months.

"Have you any idea what an inconvenience it was for me?" Darcy growled without bothering to make an introduction. "You were supposed to be at the dock this morning, to aid me in the supervision of the storage and securing of the various parts of the steam engine! If this is how you will be executing your responsibilities in the future, we may as well part ways once we dock in Philadelphia."

A low, pathetic moan was the only response Darcy received. A slight squirm under the blankets assured him that he was conversing with a living thing.

"And, I suspect you may be the one who, on the dock, jostled my cousin most rudely. I am by no means favourably disposed by these first impressions, Mr Ellwood Gardiner. I hope you will henceforth endeavour to raise your standing in my estimation. I know the pay you will receive is not substantial, but that is no excuse to behave as you have. If you expect any sort of word of recommendation or letter of introduction from me in the future, you will have to try much harder. A worse first impression you could not have made. Are you heeding my words? Are you foxed?"

He was only met with an even weaker moan that gained in pitch and desperation as the ship rolled over a particularly large swell.

"And, I suppose I am to assume by your less than manly showing, that you are prone to seasickness as well. Wonderful. Another abysmal display, young man."

Darcy ran a hand through his hair, attempting to tame down the waves of curls that were swaying over his eyes and ears. The anxiety of the last few days crashed in on him in a hard, inescapable wave. The rapidity of his decision, the nagging doubt of the success of this venture, the worry of leaving Georgiana in the care of others—no matter how competent—the uncertainty of travelling halfway round the world for the first time, the tightness of the walls in the small cabin—all of these things weighted suddenly on his chest, compressing his breathing and making him feel as if the water they travelled over might rise up and drown him.

He knew he should be more compassionate to this new acquaintance, but his irritation only increased. "What a travesty! Have you nothing to say in your defence? Have you no words of apology for me? Are you to be a useless millstone around my neck for the next few weeks? I swear I will ship you back on the next tub returning to England. Improve yourself or I will abandon you at the first bit of dry land we come to!"

The bundle stirred further. It rose, sitting, and turned to face him. The same pair of bright eyes that had glared accusingly at him on the dock returned Darcy's angry gaze. Except now the dark eyes were moist with tears and the skin around them puckered in despair and anguish. The lids flew open farther in shocked recognition at Darcy's own amazement.

"Miss Elizabeth!"

"Mr Darcy!"