Chapter Seven

D arcy looked down on the crumpled pile of blankets and clothing that was Miss Elizabeth Bennet, his one true love. Her rapid descent into sound sleep was just what he needed to sort the scattering of his racing thoughts.

He pulled up the one chair in the room, sat down with his arms crossed over his chest, and stared at her for several moments. Rubbing his palms over his eyes vigorously, hoping this scouring action might rid himself of the delusion that she was here—in his bed, no less—did nothing to alter the true nature of the situation.

Frustration and anger were soon pierced by the faintest sliver of joy. She was here. He would not be deprived of her eyes, her wit, and her charm for months. The one thing that had made him more miserable than every other inconvenience about this massive undertaking had been wiped out. The several months that had stretched before him as the time required to see this investment soundly completed before he could lay eyes on her smiling face again had vanished. For better or worse, Elizabeth was here with him.

He frowned, causing his momentary elation to dissipate. What was she doing here? Why was she here in the guise of a young man? And why did it seem that she had not been particularly pleased to see him? It was as if she had been disgusted, horrified, and even fearful of his appearance. No. That was not possible.

As Darcy sat quietly and observed the slow movement of Elizabeth breathing, he began to reassemble the comments she had made. Proud. Disagreeable. Ungentlemanly? He had not misheard her condemnations. Though he was new to the sensations of deep, unwavering love, he could not mistake those declarations as anything an enamoured woman, no matter the state of her stomach due to the rolling sea, would greet her intended with.

And her recollection of their agreement in Hertfordshire. Was it possible? Could it truly be so wholly misconstrued as a conjoined hope for a marriage between Miss Jane Bennet and Bingley? And not, as Darcy had believed, a statement by the both of them to have a secret, shared affection?

True, his words of endearment had not been overtly descriptive during his declaration of his feelings. Elizabeth was too sensible a woman to desire to be subjected to such nonsense, was she not? He had presented his thoughts on the subject in a way that was disinterested and calm—a sign that he respected her intellect and was assured of her complete approbation of a possible courtship that would raise her far above any level of society than she had probably ever envisioned for herself. It was absurd to imagine that she would have desired a more ridiculously declarative scene when a man such as he, owner of Pemberley, proposed a courtship. Simpering compliments or warm caresses were not the sort of thing she would enjoy. It was all very well and good for Bingley to moon about with grins and wide eyes, but that sort of thing would never do for him.

As he reflected on what had happened and what had been said in Hertfordshire several weeks prior, Darcy felt a wave of heated humiliation course through his entire body. His thoughts on the subject, so crystal clear an hour prior, had reversed themselves and held a mirror before him that reflected just how deeply he had misunderstood Elizabeth Bennet. How far he had overreached in his estimation of himself. Now, it was plain to him. Now, he understood the conversation at the ball at Netherfield as being almost the reverse of what he had understood. Elizabeth had never held him in regard. All the looks of ecstasy had been for the future of a beloved sister. None of it had been for him. Not one radiant, heart-wrenchingly beguiling smile had been intended for him alone.

Darcy could not tear his gaze from the huddled back of Elizabeth. As a rather large swell rolled beneath them, she shifted with a groan of discomfort and turned so that her face was towards him. Even denied the sight of her bright eyes, his entire being ached with a longing for her that left him breathless. The shorn hair atop her head and the roughness of her men's clothes did nothing to abate these tumultuous sensations. If anything, the sheer proximity of their bodies at such an unguarded moment as her sleeping just an arm's length from him made him want her even more passionately. He longed to hold her to his chest and caress away every ache and pain she was experiencing. The recent memory of the warmth of her petite frame in his arms still made the flesh of his arms and chest tingle.

Just as suddenly and violently as the remembrance of the passion of their contact roused his blood, Darcy's heart plummeted and his head reeled. Did she truly despise him? Why? Though they had apparently misunderstood each other so completely at the ball at Netherfield, there was little room for misinterpretation of what she had just said to him in her own cramped cabin.

The happy image that he had cherished in his bosom of their future together and had nourished him through every uncertainty, every degradation into the world of trade and business, turned to mist and wafted out of his soul. That hope was destroyed. And Darcy felt as though he might very well be destroyed along with it.

With a groan at the very real, sharp pain in his chest that he was enduring, Darcy leaned his elbows on his knees and let loose a trembling breath. He felt as though he might be sick. It was not the deep, merciless water under the ship that caused this brutal nausea. It was the rending of his devoted heart.

Darcy made himself as comfortable as he possibly could on a makeshift pallet of blankets on the floor. He had retrieved Elizabeth's scant belongings from her cabin as well as the blankets. The sea had mercifully calmed after the ship had made its way out of the English Channel and into the Celtic Sea.

Darcy had taken a moment to briefly exchange more pleasantries with the captain and had been informed that their progress was rapid due to the wind at their back.

"A fortunate beginning. If this luck keeps up, we will make it across the Atlantic in record time! It seems to me, begging your pardon, sir," the captain ventured with a sheepish chuckle, "that those contraptions you are shipping could hardly make a ship go faster than the wind. 'Tis a folly to attempt to run a ship with fire and water when sailors have used the wind for centuries."

Darcy gritted his teeth. Some passing explanation of the cargo the ship carried had been offered to the captain and the first officer. They had been openly curious regarding the enormously heavy crates that were neither household goods, carriages, wines, or silks—some of the usual fare to be shipped from Europe to the Americas.

"Yes, you may be correct. Perhaps the wind and currents will never be replaced as the best way to send goods from one country to the next," was all Darcy ventured to say on the subject. "I will not be joining you for dinner this evening. My nephew is terribly unwell. I have moved him to my cabin so that I may better supervise his recovery."

"Very good, Mr Lock. Though I think you may be overreacting a bit. No long-lasting harm has ever come out of the mal de mer. It is good for a young lad such as him to face some hardship. He seems to be a bit delicate, if you do not mind me saying. It will toughen him up."

"Ellwood is of a sickly constitution," Darcy replied, repressing a smile as he recalled how shocked Miss Bingley had been when it was discovered that Elizabeth had walked three miles, alone, through the mud of the countryside. "But it is hoped by my family that this voyage will make a man out of him. That is why he was brought as my assistant."

Darcy had to turn his head and look out over the railings to hide his amusement. The thoughts he had entertained of Elizabeth just a few moments earlier had been such the complete opposite imagery that it was difficult to maintain his composure. He frowned at the recollection of Elizabeth's belief that he was incapable of humour. This low sensation was quickly replaced by the speculation of what witty remark she would offer up when he informed her of this conversation. Then she could not declare him void of good spirits and enjoyment of the ridiculous.

Darcy had taken a simple meal in his cabin, making sure to leave some left over for Elizabeth in case she awoke. But she had not awoken in any real sense of the word. Her slumber had lasted long into the night and only began to retreat in the early hours of the morning.

Darcy's cabin had a small portion of the aft and starboard windows that faced the wake of the ship. The glow of the sun rising on the horizon began to illuminate the cramped room. Darcy shifted and tossed. The unmerciful planks beneath him were bruising into his back. It had been a fitful night for him.

The roll of the water, the closeness of Elizabeth, the worry of how to proceed with her at his side all raced through his mind. The physical discomfort of a harsh, wooden bed had been the least of his concerns.

A small moan escaped the berth overhead. Darcy rolled onto his back and raised his head. Elizabeth stirred. He rested his head back down and swallowed hard. He heard the slide of fabric over her skin. A raspy sound of fingernails scratching scalp. Another loud sigh escaped her lips.

"Mr Darcy?" she whispered out in a half-frightened, half-hopeful tone. Darcy sat upright in an instant. He did not wish her to be uncertain of her surroundings. Also, his imaginings of the last few minutes, so close to him awakening from his light sleep, had caused a physical manifestation of his anticipation of her company. He was enormously grateful that he had chosen to fall asleep wearing his breeches and not his nightshirt. The slight fabric of the nightshirt was far more comfortable, but it showed little mercy in the concealment of a healthy young man's natural display of morning enthusiasm.

Darcy cleared his throat as he bunched the blankets up around his lap. "Are you feeling any better, Miss Elizabeth?"

She propped up on one elbow, blinking blearily at him. Her brows furrowed in the confused annoyance of one who realises a bad dream is the truth and not, as hoped, a phantom of the imagination.

"It is too true!" she moaned.

Darcy shifted the blankets to one side, no longer needing their assistance in the face of such disgust.

"You have not answered my original query," he replied in frosty tones that he hoped concealed his hurt. "Are you well this morning? You had Captain Hansley concerned about the delicacy of your constitution."

"Only him? Well, thank you so much for your overwhelming concern. I am much better and—" She glanced around. "This is not my cabin! You forced me into your room!"

"You are very welcome, I am sure. I did not wish you to be ill and alone, on a ship full of men who are under the mistaken impression that you are a young, weak lad of sixteen."

"Weak? Did you say that I am weak?"

Darcy sighed. All pleasurable sensations and thoughts of several moments prior were no longer. "Miss Elizabeth—"

"Miss Bennet. My older sister is not here. You should address me as Miss Bennet."

"Why stop there, Miss Bennet? Perhaps it would please you best if I were to address you as Ellwood or Mr Gardiner or—or—"

Darcy closed his mouth through sheer force of will so that he did not say anything further to antagonise the situation. He stood and tossed the blankets on the bunk, across Elizabeth's lap. She stared up at him, shocked. He straightened up to his full height and promptly smacked the top of his head on the ceiling of the cabin. A flow of surprised expletives flew from his mouth.

Rubbing his scalp with one hand as he scowled at her obvious attempts to suppress a giggle, he said, "Before either of us says anything else, such as words we may come to regret, we must establish some basic facts."

Darcy grabbed the one chair in the room and sat in front of the bunk, crossing his arms and his legs. Elizabeth stared at him, shocked and frightened, but still with a hint of stubborn defiance in the clench of her jaw. Darcy's colourful verbal explosion of raw anger at the pain in his head had cooled her temper with surprise and amusement.

"Are you well?" he asked, genuinely attempting to convey his very real concern in the softness of his tone.

Elizabeth only nodded, wide-eyed.

"Do your family, friends, relations, know where you are?"

She shook her head. "Just Charlotte. She is the only one with a hint of my plan."

Darcy sighed and looked up at the vengeful ceiling. Bringing his gaze back to her, he pressed on. "Why are you here?"

More of Elizabeth's fire—which Darcy typically found spellbinding—returned as her eyes flashed with spirit. "I think it only fair that if I am asked questions, then I am able to have a few of my own answered as well. It is no small thing that you pretended to be someone else and—and lured me into a position of helplessness with no recourse to friends or relations who may be of aid to me."

Darcy had felt himself recoil at the word lure , spoken with such a weight of implication of despicable motives. He tamped down his desire to clear his reasons and simply nodded his assent.

Elizabeth straightened up and tossed off her covers. Sitting erect and levelling her gaze at him, she said, "Fine. If you insist upon inserting yourself into my affairs, I will tell you. I was making an effort to start a new venture. My interest in the sciences has been powerful since I was very young. I saw your advertisement in the back of the A Journal of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, and the Arts . And as I said, the writing was in the most awkward epistolary manner I have ever seen, so I thought you were an older man. I was desperate to find a way to escape the censure of my home and any further advances from Mr— Well, I needed to—I needed to— I was uncertain of my future and I—" She dropped her gaze downwards.

Darcy thought he detected some rapid blinking of her eyes. He shifted, suddenly desiring to wrap her in his arms and kiss away evidence of any troubles from her furrowed brow. After another moment, he cleared his throat. "And why, exactly, were you uncertain of your future?"

"I received an offer of marriage from Mr Collins, who is to inherit Longbourn, and when I refused him, my mother made it perfectly clear that I was to expect nothing from her in the way of housing or food on the death of my father."

Darcy's jaw ached with tightened muscles working in anger. For any parent to imagine a young woman of Elizabeth Bennet's temperament to be even mildly content with such a husband was unthinkable. A woman of such intelligence, vigour, curiosity, fire—

He shook his head and stood, making certain to keep his head low and away from the wood overhead. Images of the verbose, shrill Mrs Bennet scolding Elizabeth for such a just reaction to an offer from a man like Mr Collins could not help but to arise in his mind. "That was indeed an impossible situation for you to remain in. Surely, your father—"

"What could my father accomplish from beyond the grave when he is no longer with us? He was, of course, opposed to the match. But my mother made it perfectly clear that I was no longer to be her daughter when my father dies if I did not marry Mr Collins. She is as good as her word when her temper turns against you, I know that for certain."

"And Mr Collins made you an offer of marriage?" he asked, incredulous.

Her cheeks flared with warmth. "Is that so difficult to believe, Mr Darcy? That any man could find me tolerable ? I am well aware that my countenance, conversation, and tendency towards independence are distasteful to you, but is it so wondrous that another may not find those qualities as objectionable as you apparently do? I know your opinion of me is dismal, you have made that abundantly clear on several occasions, but it does not follow that all men everywhere should be repulsed by me. There are some who may find me an acceptable life companion."

Darcy tried to pace the cabin with his hands clasped behind his back. It was a farce. He was akin to the giant Gulliver in the land of Lilliputians. Exasperated, he turned his back to the cabin and watched out over the receding water.

Never in his life had he been more stunned than by what Elizabeth now said to him. His manner had conveyed disgust? Her company seemed intolerable to him? Anguish made his chest ache. His mind was frozen and his words failed him. He had been so accustomed to rebuffing every overture by ladies and conveying a sense of unapproachability with his bearing that it had become a part of his nature. Now, here he was confined in the most desirable circumstance that any man could want with the one woman he ached for, loved, and respected above all others, and she was under the mistaken impression that he found her loathsome. If it were not so tragic, it would have struck him as diverting and highly amusing. Like some sort of Shakespearean folly of mistaken love, disguises, and confused identities.

Not daring to turn back to face her, he said, "You mistake me. There is nothing extraordinary in a man desiring you for his wife. Nothing extraordinary at all. I was astonished because I found the prospect of a woman of your temperament to be in every way ill-suited for a man like your cousin. His temperament, his situation in life, connected as he is to my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, would not suit your vivacity and wit in any conceivable way. I am shocked—very shocked that your mother was unable to perceive that. If you had no affection for him, you were correct in refusing him."

There was a shuffle of movement behind him. After another moment, Elizabeth said quietly, "That is kind of you to say. I am gratified that you do not perceive my actions as totally without foundation."

"There must have been other means for you to try out. This course of running away and disguising yourself as a boy is not one I would have chosen for you."

Even as the words left his lips, he realised how stern, officious, and disapproving they sounded. And they did not reflect any of the secret delight that had been a measure of his reaction upon seeing her aboard the Jolly Sparrow . However, Darcy knew that those private sentiments must never be known. He must do all in his power to protect her and her reputation as he finished the delivery and installation of the engine that was being shipped. To press her into a courtship when she was so completely in his power would be inconceivably monstrous.

"Had I the means of wealth and connexions that I am certain you enjoy, it would have been an easy thing for me to conceive of a different course of action. That advertisement in the back of the journal seemed to be sent from heaven in answer to my prayers. I was able to convince Charlotte and her young brother to help me with correspondence and clothing, and the rest was simply a matter of arriving at the correct dock at the correct time."

Darcy's anxiety over the flippant way she spoke of endangering her life drove him to momentary distraction and a maddening sense of possessiveness to which he knew he had no right. "But what if you had been injured? A carriage you travelled on could have overturned! What if a press gang on the dock had seized you and thrown you into service on a naval ship and you were halfway round the world before your identity was discovered? If anything had happened to you—"

He whipped around, no longer trusting what he said.

"You need not worry yourself to such an extreme, sir! I am nothing to you beyond an acquaintance of Mr Bingley. I suppose, if Jane and Mr Bingley were to marry and you were to marry Miss Bingley, we would be brother and sister of a sort. I am certain you would find that irksome, but it need not cause you this amount of anxiety."

Brother and sister? Had she just referred to their future relationship as one of begrudging relations? Darcy could no longer stand the confines of this little cabin in which he could hardly stand up without fear of injury. The air was so thick with cross-purposes, misunderstandings, and intrigues that his breath was laboured and his mind was spinning.

His tongue felt heavy as he stated, "I am sure you have been long desiring my absence. I will walk the deck for a breath of air and then bring you some breakfast."

Seemingly in utter oblivion to the struggles in Darcy's heart, Elizabeth brightened and replied, "I am most grateful to you! Now that I am acclimated to life aboard a ship, my appetite has recovered with vigour."