Chapter Eight

Elizabeth startled as Mr Darcy slammed the cabin door shut behind him. After tending to her toilette, and drinking some of the water that was in a small, sturdy jug, she began to feel much refreshed.

She brought the chair over to the pair of windows and gazed with rapt attention at the waves from the ship's wake. The sunrise blanketed the sky with hues of red and orange that were entirely new to her. Her heart was so happy that she could not force her lips to refrain from smiling.

So, this is the wide world. Here is an adventure beyond any ramble in the woods or following a fading cattle path through a meadow that I could have ever anticipated. Aside from her departure from Jane—for whom she had left a note of assurance and begged her forgiveness—Elizabeth found she had little that she could truly regret. Never had she been so certain that she was where she truly belonged.

Except for the fact that—of all the conceivable partners in this adventure—she was stuck with Mr Darcy of Pemberley. What cruel twist of fate had caused this? How much more pleasant this would have been with Wickham. With a sigh, Elizabeth shook her head and accepted that these small annoyances could not be helped. The fact was that she, Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, was having a real adventure and would be essential in preparing a major scientific advancement for a trial run. Other than altering the presence of Mr Darcy, she could hardly have asked for more.

Mr Darcy came into the cabin just as she was completing a letter to Charlotte that she would post from America at the first opportunity. Uncomfortable—terribly uncomfortable—at the prospect of telling lies to her family made some of the exhilaration fade. It could not be helped. The letter was written with the intention of its being read aloud to her family. In it, Elizabeth explained that she had accepted the position of governess to a wealthy family in the wilds of the Illinois frontier and future correspondences would be irregular. The demand was strong for accomplished, well-brought-up caretakers to educate the American elite's offspring. It would be canvassed as a shocking, unusual choice, but not completely outside the realm of possibility. Only Charlotte knew the truth. And even then, Elizabeth had not taken her fully into her confidence so that she may be prevented from having to construct falsehoods.

Feeling better settled in her conscience, Elizabeth was able to greet Mr Darcy with a happy smile when he returned and with an appetite prepared to be sated. Even though she was not particularly pleased with her companion in this adventure, she had to begrudgingly admit that he was demonstrating a surprising amount of solicitude for her well-being.

"I must thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate the breakfast, I assure you."

Mr Darcy set the tray of food before her on the desk. "Are you certain you are fully recovered from your illness?"

Embarrassment made Elizabeth turn away as she chewed on the bite from the large slice of bread. He must have witnessed her at her most degraded and infirmed. The knowledge of it made her ashamed.

"As you see. My appetite has returned, and I am able to sit up with no threat of unease."

She turned to observe him closely. His face was a mask of unreadable stoicism. But, unless Elizabeth was very much mistaken, she thought she could perceive a slight twinkle in those dark eyes of Mr Darcy. If she believed him capable of it, she could almost imagine that he found some little sliver of amusement at this pickle that they found themselves in.

While she ate, Elizabeth was grateful for his polite silence. With her plate clean and the hateful hunger quelled, a sense of tired contentment suffused her body. Walks were indeed a wonderful adventure, but a voyage to the other side of the world was incomparably satisfying. There was something that made every inch of her body shiver in anticipation. Her eyes could not help but stare out of the little windows against the side and back of the cabin, drawn as they were to the ever-changing, yet strangely repetitive view of the ship's wake as it unspooled itself out behind them.

Mr Darcy cleared his throat, and Elizabeth was brought back to the realities of the moment.

"I believe, if you feel yourself sufficiently refreshed, we should confer on what is to be done."

"Done? I do not understand you. I sought and obtained a position to assist in the delivery, assembly, and functioning of a steam engine. And—if you do not mind me saying so—even though the pay is shamefully meagre, I intend on carrying out those duties."

"No, I think not."

"No, you do not think I am capable of such work that taxes the mind? Or no, you do not wish to pay me the scraps that were agreed upon?"

Without a change in his countenance, Mr Darcy stared at her in absolute silence for several moments.

"I will not place you in a position of such extreme danger to your person and risk to your reputation. It is folly to even begin to consider—"

"There is no risk to my reputation. I fooled everyone with enough ability to act the part of a young man to travel from Hertfordshire and to gain entry onto this ship. Surely, you have heard tales of women in disguise working in all sorts of capacities for which they are believed to be unsuited. It is not something that I would have chosen for myself, but what options did I have?"

"Many other options come to mind. You should have remained in Hertfordshire and waited—waited for—" He stumbled over his words, appearing momentarily confused.

"There you state again, supposing that I was to remain in Hertfordshire and wait. Wait for what, exactly? Your friend to marry my sister? And then I would have a safe haven if I was ever disowned by my mother and left homeless and destitute? Mr Bingley left for London not long after you departed, and a letter from Miss Bingley stated that they had no intention of returning. I would almost guess that there was some chicanery afoot to prevent a pronounced and public attachment between my sister and Mr Bingley. It was a shock, for a more promising attachment between two people had never been seen by myself or anyone else in Meryton."

Mr Darcy clearly bristled and finally uncrossed his arms. A rosy hue of indignation spread up his neck and over his cheeks.

"If you are accusing me of attempting to separate Mr Bingley and your sister, you could not be more mistaken. I assure you I did nothing to dissuade him; my sole advice was that he should be absolutely certain in your sister's regard and then make an offer of marriage only after he was firm in his belief that she returned his affections with comparable warmth. If your sister had shown more attachment and discernable admiration for Bingley, I have little doubt he would have made an offer in the first week of his being at Netherfield, he is that deeply in love with Miss Jane Bennet."

"You, of all people!" Elizabeth cried, hardly believing the audacity that she was witnessing. "Advising another on being more open and encouraging? I am all amazement! You speak so reluctantly and appear to disdain all you see so severely that it would require a person of Herculean discernment to perceive when you are pleased, or content, or disgusted. All of those feelings seem to me to appear in the exact same light in your expressions."

Deeply crimson in his face, Darcy stood quickly from his seat on the bunk and smacked the back of his head again on the roof of the cabin. It was so much more severe this time that Elizabeth actually jumped up and took a hold of one of his elbows as he swayed slightly from the aftereffects. She looked up into his face, the signs of pain so clearly etched there. His eyes were squeezed shut in a visible effort to get the better of the sensation.

"Sir, you must take a care," Elizabeth cried with true solicitude. "I think it is not such a great advantage to be so tall and regal in your bearing when in the cabin of a ship."

With his eyes still shut and a grimace over his face, Mr Darcy laughed. His free hand was rubbing the sore spot vigorously. Unaware of how it had happened, Elizabeth saw that she was very close to him, with one hand on his elbow to support him and the other clutching his free hand in concern. When she looked back up, she observed an expression that surprised her. His eyes were now open and gazing at her intently. He inhaled sharply and blinked several times.

"I do not think—" Mr Darcy swallowed hard and then cleared his throat loudly. With a steady, deeper tone, he said, "I need some air. If you wish to speak further, I will be up on deck, walking and standing without risk to my skull."

He pulled away from her and turned to leave the small cabin. At the door, he glanced over his shoulder at her before closing it carefully.

Once alone, Elizabeth sat on the bunk. The warmth still in the fabric from Mr Darcy's body caused her to leap up suddenly, ill at ease.

"He must have hit his head with more violence than I supposed," Elizabeth muttered to herself. She walked to the window and thought of the sombre, taciturn Mr Darcy. He was not without very strong feelings. She had been mistaken on that point, for it had been her assumption that he was unsympathetic and cold. His disapproval of her, his disgust in her presence was obvious, though. There was no change on that acute observation of hers. The way he recoiled from her when Elizabeth supported him. How he fled the cabin at every opportunity. It all indicated a man who found her company bearable only in small intervals.

Elizabeth sighed. Again, her heart wished for another companion, with an indignant fierceness that startled her. How was it possible to be connected to Mr Darcy at such a moment? How was it that he could possibly involve himself in trade and commerce in this manner? Her presence here on the ship—though shocking, suspect, and so obviously offensive to him—was as equal in its implausibility as his own. And he was making this journey under a false name. She could not account for either instance.

With a frustrated groan, Elizabeth decided the best course of action was for her to speak with him on deck. The awkwardness of being so closely confined whilst attempting to clarify this muddle was apparently too much for Mr Darcy's fortitude. If he hit his head one more time on this low ceiling, he might be permanently addled.

After putting on her boots, Elizabeth went on deck. There at the aft of the ship—slumped over the railing and giving all the appearance of dejection and sulking—was Mr Darcy. Something about his wilted demeanour gave rise to a wave of sympathy for the man. He had not been expecting a country lady whom he disdained to appear by his side for this adventure.

The sympathy was short-lived as other words spoken by Mr Darcy reasserted themselves in somewhat hazy recollections of the previous day. He had forwarded the idea that all of this was an attempt to ensnare him. She would be compromised, and he would be forced to wed her.

Insufferable blockhead. The truth could not be more different.

To imagine that she would be capable of such a connivance, that she would so willingly separate herself from every loving heart that held her interests high in their concerns, in order to trap Mr Darcy alone in a cabin on a ship whilst she was battling wave after wave of violent illness…

Elizabeth's indignation was replaced by the somewhat humorous image she had just conjured for herself. What a conundrum they had each built for themselves! And though Elizabeth could heartily wish for another in place of Mr Darcy in this adventure that was already going strangely awry, she had to acknowledge that he had demonstrated seemingly genuine concern for her well-being, comfort, and safety. This was not something to be tossed aside lightly, no matter how much she despised the man.

After realising that if they were ever to come to some sort of accord, it would be she—to whom humour, conversation, and quick thinking came more naturally—who would need to build bridges of compromise with this reserved fellow.

Elizabeth walked across the deck of the ship, attempting to emulate one of the farmhands on their way to a meal break by dashing into her stride a manly slouch and swagger. She leaned against the railing, close to Mr Darcy.

"Ellwood," he said with a small nod of acknowledgement.

"Mr Lock," Elizabeth retorted with an equally formal nod, though she could not keep the smile from her lips. It seemed that his brow lightened and his face held less mulishness. She glanced around, looking for eavesdroppers.

"Unless I am mistaken, the wind is such that it will cast our words overboard. I think, as long as we keep our voices low, there is little danger of being overheard."

"How clever of you. It would not occur to me that the wind would make it easy for a conversation to be overheard."

"You, sir, obviously have a very respectful and caring younger sister. Lydia would frequently position herself downwind of Jane and me in an attempt to eavesdrop on private conversations. You have much to learn about the stratagems of young ladies."

Looking mildly shocked, Mr Darcy said, "Indeed."

"You see, I am already proving my worth as an assistant."

He frowned. "As to that, I cannot—"

Elizabeth held a hand up to silence the rehearsed lecture that was on the verge of escaping his lips. "I have a proposal. I think it is high time that the lamb lies down with the lion."

"I beg your pardon?"

"We must come to peace between ourselves. That will only occur if we are completely honest and attempt to start anew. It should be as if we have never met before."

"But I cannot have you travel with me. I simply will not stand for it. I must send you back to England the moment we arrive, on the first available ship travelling east."

"I should travel alone? With my reputation in tatters when I arrive? If you attempt to force such a plan, I will disappear the moment we arrive in America, and you will never see me again. I think you have seen too much of my natural spirit to doubt I am capable of such an act."

"Alone? In America?" Mr Darcy's voice rose in timbre to an almost panicked tone.

" That , sir, will be a very last course of action for me, I assure you. However, I will not discard it as an avenue for myself. There are many openings for qualified, gently-bred governesses in America."

A silence followed. Both resumed their previous positions of watching the wake of the ship unfold beneath them. It was a heavy pause in their tentative new beginning.

At last, Mr Darcy said, "And who exactly is the lamb and who is the lion?"

Elizabeth blinked and looked at him in amazement. This time she was absolutely certain that she could detect a small smirk on his lips. Another jest from Mr Darcy? It was a day of fantastical revelations. "If you are in doubt as to who is the lion and who is the lamb," she replied, "then it is safe to assume that you are not the lion."

He laughed and shook his head. Elizabeth saw droplets of salty moisture clinging to the soft curls of his eyelashes. She smiled back at him, grateful to have this minor respite from their bickering. Her spirits did not know if she could bear more condemnation from her only acquaintance on the ship.

"You propose to continue as my assistant?"

"I think there can hardly be a better solution, do you not agree? If you will just give me the opportunity, I am certain that I can be as able a helpmate as ever you could find. And I am well-versed in some of the latest scientific discoveries, in part from my father's enthusiasm for the subject and with Charlotte's help."

"I have been reflecting on this. You should absolutely continue the charade of being my assistant and young nephew whilst we sail."

"Your—your nephew?"

"Yes, I did not want it to appear odd at how concerned I was for your health during your recent indisposition."

"Indisposition? That is a kind way to word it."

"I moved you to my cabin and attended to you myself after the captain offered one of his men for the task."

"Oh," Elizabeth muttered, somewhat chastened by his clear statement of the facts of the last two days. It occurred to her that he must have gone through no small amount of degradation for a man of his station. Indeed, the more she reflected on it, the greater seemed his kindness and solicitude. She shook her head to dismiss the thought and bring the powers of her mind back to their present difficulties.

"But I must be able to understand, sir, why are you here? I have given my explanations, but we were never able to canvass yours."

Removing his forearms from the railing, Mr Darcy stood tall and gripped the wood before him, causing his knuckles to whiten.

"I do not see how that is germane to the present moment. It has little bearing on what we must clarify in order to proceed."

"I think the lion has every right to know the motives of the lamb! We are starting anew with no secrets, remember?"

Mr Darcy looked at her earnestly, a sad sort of smile on his face that Elizabeth could not account for. "Of course. Beginning anew with a proper understanding of each other. I must warn you that some of what the lamb has to say may shock the lion."

"I have told you several shocking things in the last day. I think I am entitled to know a few of the matters that are dear to you, as well."

"True," he replied with a small bow. "The lamb apologises," he said as he turned his focus back to the sea.

"The finances of Pemberley and the Darcy family are not what they should be. The estate will be hanging by a thread for several years in order to fully recover. My father, who died a little over five years ago, was led into several unsound investments by someone he loved and trusted." Mr Darcy paused and seemed to consider whether or not to elaborate.

"A fresh start built on trust," Elizabeth reminded him. "No matter if the truth is shocking or painful for me to hear."

With a heavy sigh, Mr Darcy said, "My father was persuaded into these foolhardy investments by George Wickham."

Elizabeth straightened up and turned her own gaze towards the sea in an effort to hide her surprise and hurt. Wickham! It could not be true. His countenance of goodness, his affability towards all! It was not so many days in the past when her heart had been brought terribly low by his absence from the ball at Netherfield. However, since then, her more sensible side recognised that nothing more serious than friendly regard could ever arise between herself and Wickham. Neither of them had the resources to marry where they wanted without regard to the future. Once her mind had settled that as absolute fact, she was aware that there had been no telltale symptoms of a crushing heartbreak in her chest. Elizabeth had been disappointed, but not brought so low as to relinquish all hope of future happiness with another.

"It is incredible," she muttered.

This utterance obviously inflamed Mr Darcy. "You doubt my word? I give you every assurance possible that it is true. If we were ashore in England, I could easily provide several proofs from others whose word you may find easier to believe."

"Do not put words in my mouth! I made no such accusation. However, knowing what a charming man Mr Wickham is, so easy to converse with—" Elizabeth heard a snort of derision from Mr Darcy. "This is shocking to the extreme. Is that why you denied him the living that was promised by your father? Is that why he was forced to seek a commission in the militia?"

"Good God! Is that what he told you? I can assure you that I had every intention of honouring my father's wishes! Wickham himself declared to my face he would never take orders, and I paid him handsomely to relinquish his claim to the living. Were we in London, I could show you legal documents to verify my claim. My father made this one sound investment, and I have every intention of seeing it through to success."

Elizabeth was stunned beyond anything she had ever known. To imagine a man such as Mr Darcy fabricating such an extensive lie that involved his deceased father was not plausible in the least.

"I see that what I have just told you is shocking and—and apparently hurtful," Mr Darcy murmured. "You requested complete honesty, and that is what I provided. I think you should take some time to consider what has been discussed here. We are to dine with the captain this evening, if you feel able to do so, and it might be best to put in an appearance."

"But— What if I am required to speak?" Elizabeth asked, feeling suddenly unsure of herself.

Mr Darcy's expression softened. He momentarily placed a hand on her forearm. The warmth of him reinvigorated her strength. "I will say that your throat is raw from your illness."

"There is some truth to that," Elizabeth said with a weak smile.

"That will account for any strangeness in your tone. Your voice is already somewhat low. Disguise it just a little more."

"You mean like this?" Elizabeth said in her best imitation of a baritone.

Mr Darcy brought his hand up quickly, covering his mouth.

"Are you laughing at me?"

He only shook his head rapidly and then cleared his throat. "That was a noble first attempt. Try again, without making it too low."

"How do you do, sir? What a lovely ship the Jolly Sparrow is!"

Mr Darcy pressed his lips together and nodded, again appearing to Elizabeth that he was working hard not to laugh.

"Better. Better. I will forewarn the captain that you are terribly shy as well."

"Shy? Sickly? Needing constant care? The captain will begin to wonder why you brought me along at all!"

"It is a risk we must take, I think."