Instead of improving in the comfort of Darcy’s cabin, Elizabeth seemed to grow steadily worse those first few days. She was barely able to get herself out of bed, her fever climbing dangerously high. To aid in her recovery, Darcy secured whatever remedies he could acquire from the ship’s cook, who was the only expert onboard pertaining to these illnesses.
He also enlisted the help of Mrs. Jennings to give assistance to Elizabeth where he believed it would be more prudent for a woman to aid her. She came to the room several times a day, helping Elizabeth out of bed, taking her to the necessary room, encouraging her to eat and drink, and securing her back into bed. Darcy needed only to remember to remove the sheet first thing in the morning so she would not have any questioning suspicions as to the nature of their marital arrangement.
Mrs. Rawlings, for the first time since boarding the ship, was eventually well enough to come up out of steerage and repaid Elizabeth’s compassion with some of her own. The two women eagerly and graciously helped Darcy out with his wife’s care. Elizabeth slept a lot, said very little, was growing increasingly pale, and Darcy was concerned.
Between Mrs. Jennings and Mrs. Rawlings, they took good care of her but saw little improvement. Mrs. Rawlings was compelled to repay Elizabeth for all she had done and stopped by at every available opportunity. As Elizabeth’s fever climbed higher, Mrs. Rawlings took damp cloths and applied them to her face and encouraged her to drink plenty of fluids, advising Darcy to do the same with her, as well. When Elizabeth was too weak to do anything but sleep, she brushed out her hair for her and tidied her up.
Darcy was at a loss to know what more to do. He found himself gravely concerned for her health; wondering whether he had been too late in bringing her up out of steerage. He received varied accounts of Mrs. Trimble, and it was apparent that she was not making any sort of recovery. He wondered whether Elizabeth had contracted the same thing she had.
The evening of the third day that they had been married, Elizabeth was at her worst. Darcy awoke in the night to find Elizabeth moaning and thrashing about in her bed. He quickly pulled himself out of bed, lit the oil lamp, and walked over to her, removing the sheet that separated them. He sat down beside her and felt her forehead. Even to his inexperienced touch, he had the unsettling feeling that her fever was higher than it ever had been or should be. He did as Mrs. Rawlings had advised, putting moist cloths across her forehead and trying to get her to drink some fluids.
In the light of the oil lamp, Elizabeth’s face appeared flushed. He gingerly let his hand trail down her cheek, delighted by its softness, disquieted by its scorching heat. As she began again to thrash and cry out, Darcy tried to waken her by gently shaking her and calling out to her. “Elizabeth, do you hear me? Elizabeth, wake up, you are having a bad dream!”
He seriously doubted that it was merely a bad dream, however. He was quite certain she was delirious from the effects of the high fever. She did not respond to his voice or touch, would calm down for a short spell, and then frantically cry out again. He steadfastly stayed by her side as he continued to apply the cloths to her face, hoping the fever would break.
As he sat there, he silently pondered whether her ailment could be the judgment from God on the two of them taking solemn vows so lightly. Could this be a punishment for entering into a marriage covenant without due consideration? He closed his eyes and uttered what he considered a meagre prayer. He was not a man who normally found himself relying on God, but having no other options available to him, he appealed to God’s mercy for the plight he may have brought upon them and beseeched Him for her healing.
Elizabeth began murmuring again and then frantically cried out, “No! No!”
Firmly grasping her shoulders, Darcy drew his face close to hers and called out to her, “Elizabeth, wake up! I know you can hear me!”
She mumbled something unintelligible, tossing her head even more, and then suddenly stopped. Her eyes unexpectedly opened, and he found himself staring into her beautiful, wide eyes, unsure whether or not she was really awake and seeing him. She then cried out, “Mr. Wright, Mr. Wright!”
Darcy took in a quick, sharp breath, fully convinced now that she was not awake, although she seemed to be looking right at him. He briefly wondered who this Mr. Wright could be when she cried out again.
“I did not know… I did not know…”
Elizabeth continued to thrash about while Darcy diligently applied wet cloths to her face, feeling more and more at a loss to know what to do. He wondered what it was that she did not know, and again, who this Mr. Wright might be.
Darcy lingered with her the remainder of the night, keeping watch over her, alternating between attending her and pacing the floor. She cried out a few more times, but in the early hours of the morning, her fever finally broke. She fell into a deep, restful sleep, and relief flooded Darcy, knowing that she was on her way to recovery. He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, and his head buried in his palms. He could do nothing until he offered up another short prayer of thanks to God for bringing her through this. Exhausted, and ever so reluctantly, he walked the short distance over to his bed and crawled in, just as the sign of first light broke through the window. He did not bother to put the sheet back up.
***
After a few days of little more than bed rest, Elizabeth steadily began feeling improved. For those first few days after her fever subsided, she resisted the urge to rise with the sun, prompted principally by Darcy’s strong admonition that she remain in bed to allow her the rest she needed to fully recover. Her more than satisfactory meals from the captain’s private cupboard, although provided only occasionally now due to diminishing supply, strengthened her. She regretted that she was not feeling well enough to go visit the friends she had made, but greatly appreciated the visits from the now healed Mrs. Rawlings. On more than one occasion, she enthusiastically relayed to Elizabeth how Mr. Darcy showed such compassion and concern for her while she was ill. It was apparent to Elizabeth that he had secured Mrs. Rawlings’s approval.
On those mornings while she had been ill, she had been only vaguely aware of Darcy rising and readying himself for the day. She had barely been able to open her eyes, and before she knew it, he would quietly remove the sheet and be gone, followed by either Mrs. Jennings or Mrs. Rawlings, who would come in to help her up.
It was dark one morning and Elizabeth could hear rain pelting the ship. The overcast skies did little to give light to their room. When Darcy arose, he lit the oil lamp and began readying himself. Being the most alert she had been since their marriage, she found herself entranced by the shadows his movements projected upon the sheet.
It was by no means a distinct silhouette of the man, but she continued to watch it in silence. It was when he began walking closer toward her that the shape took on a more definite form, and she was surprised to find her heart had begun to beat a trifle more erratically. When he unexpectedly spoke to her from the other side of the sheet, she practically jumped, reeling from the irrational thought that he must have known she had been watching his shadow through the sheet.
“Elizabeth? Are you awake?”
It took a few moments for Elizabeth to compose herself, and she manufactured a loud, long yawn. “I… I am now,” she answered softly.
“I am sorry to have awakened you. I wondered if you needed me to fetch Mrs. Jennings or Mrs. Rawlings this morning.”
“No, no, I believe I am feeling well enough to take care of myself this morning.”
Darcy smiled. “Good. Unfortunately it looks as though it is raining. I will go to the dining room for a while to allow you to get ready and then bring you back some food if you like.”
“Thank you, no. I should like to partake of my food in the dining room itself. It has been too long since I have seen everyone.”
“I shall return for you shortly, then.”
Later that morning, when she went to the dining room with Darcy, Elizabeth was grateful to renew those acquaintances whom she had not seen since she took ill almost a week ago. Sitting with her, Darcy was more intent on keeping an eye on her to ensure that she did not overdo it rather than be inclined to join much in any conversation. But he did occasionally contribute, and for that Elizabeth was glad. She remained there until early afternoon, but fatigue gradually demanded she return to the room and rest, and she complied.
A couple of days later, she finally felt well enough to join Darcy on deck for their first walk since becoming husband and wife. The rain storm had passed without too much of an inconvenience. As the sun gradually rose above the horizon, she felt more compelled that morning to engage in the activity that she enjoyed best and had sorely missed. Elizabeth waited until after Darcy left their room that morning; then she promptly arose, readied herself, and proceeded to join him up on deck.
She peered out when she came aloft, feeling almost completely back to her old self. She took in a deep breath, anxious for a walk. She looked up one side of the deck and down the other, when she saw Darcy coming toward her.
“Good morning, Elizabeth.”
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy.”
By now Darcy was resigned that this woman would continually insist on being formal with him when they were not in the company of others.
The sun poured its warmth down upon the deck, but the breeze seemed to compete for attention. Elizabeth had inadvertently come up without her shawl, and Darcy insisted he go back down for it.
“You cannot walk without your shawl. I shall run down after it.”
“I am fine, truly,” Elizabeth attempted to assure him.
“I do not want you coming down with a chill immediately after recovering from your fever! I shall return shortly.”
He left without giving Elizabeth the chance to utter another word.
When he returned, he spread out the shawl in his hands and brought it around her. As he draped it around her shoulders, his hands came up and straightened the shawl around her neck, brushing against it lightly with his fingertips. If she had felt nothing this past week other than the effects of the fever, suddenly a fever of another kind swept through her at his touch.
She had been unaware of the extent of his care for her, too ill to be attentive to much of anything, and now was greatly discomfited that this simple touch, although most likely unnoticed by him, greatly stirred her. And there was something else. When she had been ill, she had dreams of him, and yet it had not been him. They were too hazy for her to clearly recall, and she was left again with a sense of something she was trying to recollect, but could not.
Elizabeth was incorrect in her assumption that Darcy most likely had not been affected by the touch. He had, in fact, been just as affected by the simple act of placing her shawl around her as she had been. He had cared for her these past few days, and there was something in caring for her that seemed to strengthen his regard for her. As he felt his irrational feelings toward her doing battle with his rational mind, he reprimanded himself for being so adolescently affected by something as simple as a fleeting touch.
They both turned to walk, Darcy politely extending his arm to Elizabeth. She gingerly placed her hand inside his arm, and they began to stroll leisurely up on deck, their first time since becoming man and wife.
It was different now. They both sensed it. It had been over a week since they had taken their last walk together, and so much had happened since that day. A sense of awkwardness hung over their walk, as they both recognized that since Elizabeth was now well, their marriage would be more open for scrutiny by others. They would have to play the part convincingly and well.
Their conversation that day seemed stifled and forced. She could not think of any subject to introduce that might interest him. He appeared miles away in thought, apparently content in his silence, and so, apart from some general comments and observations, they said little.
In reality, though, both of their minds were full of thoughts that they wanted to pour out, but held themselves back.
As other passengers and some of the crew greeted them, Elizabeth found it disconcerting to be called Mrs. Darcy. She wished to be able to have everyone call her Elizabeth, instead of that name that was only a pretence, but that could not be. As they walked, she considered that Mr. Darcy had been spending almost this whole week posing as her husband while she had been ill in bed. Now she was faced with doing the same thing, and she wondered if she would be able to. In the fogginess of her mind when she agreed to his proposal, she could not have foreseen the awkwardness it would cause her.
She stole a look up at the man walking next to her, who seemed content to walk in silence and seemed oblivious to the moral or ethical dilemma she was facing. He was obviously one who did not struggle with lies and disguises. Did she really know him at all?
Darcy kept their walk that day short due to Elizabeth’s only recent recovery, and she was grateful when he suggested they had walked enough for the day. Feeling invigorated by the walk, but suddenly unnerved by the whole idea of living a deception in front of others, Elizabeth was grateful to return to the room.
When they stepped back inside the room, Darcy strongly suggested to her that she should not overexert herself, and that she should occupy her time resting in the dining area with a book or visiting with some of her acquaintances in there.
“I believe, Mr. Darcy, that I should prefer to pay a visit in steerage. I know there are some ladies who are still not well, and I would like to see Mrs. Trimble.”
“Not yet, Elizabeth. You are not yet fully well. There is no reason for you to exert yourself and put yourself in harm’s way.”
He spoke to her in a way that, in his mind, it was a settled fact.
“On the contrary, Mr. Darcy, I believe there are several reasons for me to go down, and whether I exert myself or put myself in harm’s way is left to be seen.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the look of challenge permeating Elizabeth’s features. He readied himself with an answer and girded himself for an expected retort. “I beg to differ, Elizabeth. You are not the only one capable of taking care of these people! You must think of yourself!”
Elizabeth’s ire, coupled by the awkwardness she had felt earlier with him, rose. “Upon my word, Mr. Darcy! I believe I know myself well enough to know that I am perfectly well enough now to go down! You may think what you like. I will be paying a visit to steerage!”
She turned and walked toward the door. Darcy reacted by reaching out and grabbing her wrist, yanking her to a stop. She angrily turned back to him.
He stood facing her, unable to speak for the mesmerizing sight of her fiercely dark, challenging eyes. They arrested any thought he might try to conjure up, and an uncomfortable silence ensued. How could he tell her that he was only concerned for her? How could he convey to her that he only had her well-being in mind? At length he realized she would most likely do as she pleased anyway, and he released her hand.
“You may go, Elizabeth, if you are so strongly inclined. But I beg you, do not spend too great a length of time down there, and when you come back up, wash your hands thoroughly!”
She paused before turning to leave, debating whether she desired more to speak out again and have the last word, sarcastically informing him she did not need his permission, or whether she should apologize to him for her obstinacy and unreasonableness. At length, she opened the door and walked out, saying nothing further.
Darcy stood still for a few moments, contemplating this woman who was so independent, strong-willed, stubborn, compassionate, intelligent, lively, and beautiful! He had no idea how any man would be able to handle her as his wife. But a thought quickly materialized that he would surely love to give it a try and find out how!
Elizabeth sullenly made her way down the three flights of stairs to steerage, being ever so careful to step gingerly so as not to injure her ankle again. She was not happy with herself and wondered about her outburst. Whereas she told herself that Darcy was only looking out for her, she found it difficult to hold her tongue at his inclination to oblige her to do things the way he wanted without question.
She sighed as she approached the door that would take her into the steerage accommodations. She could already feel the stifling effects of being down within the bowels of the ship and the lack of fresh air. How grateful she was to be out of here. With that thought, she had to admit she was grateful for the man who was her husband, however temporary it might be.
When she walked into the large room, she was happy to see that many had completely recovered. There were only a few left who were still ailing, including Mrs. Trimble, who did not seem to be able to rise above her illness. Elizabeth did whatever she could to aid in their recovery and comfort.
When she met Darcy again later that day, Elizabeth was a bit more subdued than normal. Darcy could not determine if it was due to their argument earlier, that she had done too much that day, or both. As they sat together at dinner that night, he noticed she was exceedingly quiet, and he was pretty much left to his own devices to converse with those around him.
He was grateful to discover the next day that Elizabeth was one who rebounded quickly and completely, both in her health and in forgetting the conflicts of a previous day. By the next day she was pretty much back to her former self, and Darcy made every attempt to avoid appearing overbearing and controlling, for he knew exactly what her response to that would be.
The length of their walks each day grew longer and longer. As long as they kept the conversation from becoming too personal, they both began to enjoy the time and feel comfortable again. At length she even resorted to a little teasing.
One morning when she joined him for a walk, she commented on his attire, which she had found to be much too formal and elegant for an ocean crossing. She often contemplated how she must pale next to him in her simple muslin dresses.
“Tell me, Mr. Darcy, are these the only clothes you have?”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed, looking down at his clothes in bewilderment. “May I inquire what you find wrong with these clothes?” he asked as he waved a hand over them.
Elizabeth smiled. “Nothing, if you are planning to go to a ball!”
Darcy looked at her incredulously. “A ball? These are not clothes one would wear to a ball!”
“Perhaps not yourself.” Laughing lightly, she asked him, “Did you not bring any travelling clothes with you on this voyage?”
Darcy turned his head away from her, took a deep breath, and then brought his eyes back to see a most sparkling pair of dark eyes taunting him. He smiled at her and said, “Elizabeth, these are my travelling clothes!”
Now she let out a lively laugh. “Then perhaps you ought to bring out your work clothes for a change! I dare say you might be more comfortable!”
Suddenly Darcy turned serious. “I have no work clothes.”
“You have no…?” Elizabeth paused, perceiving that he felt rather discomfited at the moment and checked her laugh. But she wondered whether he meant that he did not have any work clothes on this ship or not at all. She turned her attention away from him as they continued to walk, pondering whether this was the kind of man who never lowered himself to a menial task. She cringed as she thought what his life must really be like.
Elizabeth became increasingly concerned about Mrs. Trimble, who was growing weaker and eating and drinking less. Others in steerage recognized the look of impending death spreading across her features. Elizabeth continued to do all she could to make her comfortable while others tended to stay as far away as possible from her, fearful that what she had might spread to them.
Darcy and Elizabeth continued their daily walks, keeping the conversation to general things. When in the dining room, Elizabeth encouraged Darcy to meet others and prompted the conversations to veer toward those subjects he enjoyed talking about. He did not appear as withdrawn as he had, and Elizabeth found that he seemed to relish conversation on politics, religion, and current thought, but she also found he rarely offered any real insight into his personal life.
She was surprised with the effort at civility in which Darcy had begun to speak to those seated around him. He certainly did not seem to be at a loss in communication skills when in the company of a few. Why he would deliberately choose to sit off by himself in a crowd of people, as he had those first days out at sea, she had assumed was because he thought himself above everyone. But now she was of the opinion that it might be due to the fact that it took him some time to open up to people he did not know.
Darcy was convinced that Elizabeth was completely back to her former, spirited self a few days later when the dolphins made their appearance. They took their walk earlier that morning, and then went their separate ways, much as they had done each day since Elizabeth’s recovery. In the early afternoon Elizabeth went back on deck looking for the Rawlingses when she saw a group of people congregated at the rail.
When she walked over, she was amazed at the sight she saw. Several dolphins were swimming alongside the ship, their bodies gracefully coming up out of the water and then going back down. She watched for several minutes, quite engaged in the sight before her, believing she would never see anything else like it again. They seemed intent on staying alongside the ship, and Elizabeth, although finding it difficult to pull herself away, went in search of Darcy.
She found him in the dining room reading, and excitedly exclaimed, “William! You must come up and see this!”
Curiosity, as well as satisfaction, propelled him to get up and follow her, for in her excitement, she had used his Christian name. She practically pulled him up onto the deck, lightly holding his hand in hers, and when they came up and looked out, Darcy was quite impressed.
But it was not so much the dolphins with which he was impressed, although they were definitely quite a sight. It was the fact that Elizabeth had thought to come down and find him to bring him up so he could share in this sight with her. As he continued watching the dolphins, he experienced an even greater pleasure in watching Elizabeth as she took infinite delight in observing the dolphins soar out of the water, almost as if they were at play.
“Are they not the most beautiful things you have ever seen?” she turned to him and asked.
He had never seen her eyes more sparkling and lively than at this moment. “They most certainly are.” At the moment, he felt a leaning in his heart that he wished he did not have to push away.
***
It had been almost two weeks since their marriage; the ship had been making good progress, and they heard that they had but a week to go. The captain came to their room early one morning. The sun was just up over the horizon and there was a knock on their door. Darcy pulled himself out of his bed and opened it. The captain, holding an oil lamp to light his way in the early morning, asked to speak with Elizabeth.
Elizabeth looked out from behind the sheet. “Yes, Captain?”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Darcy, but Mrs. Trimble is fading. You may want to go down to her. I shall wait outside your door and take you down if you like.”
“I shall be there directly, Captain.”
Darcy thanked the captain and closed the door as Elizabeth scrambled out of bed. He turned, and in the palest light coming from the window caught a glimpse of her quickly donning her robe. He swallowed hard as Elizabeth looked up to see a look of discomfiture cross his face.
“Shall I go with you?” he forced himself to say. He really did not want to go for himself, or for Mrs. Trimble, but he would go solely for Elizabeth if she wished it.
“No, I shall go alone.”
Elizabeth went down with the captain and found a few of the passengers gathered around Mrs. Trimble. Her breathing had grown shallow and her eyes were open but did not appear to see.
“Mrs. Trimble, it is me, Elizabeth.” She watched as the woman’s eyes fluttered, but there was no other response. Elizabeth took her hand and held it firmly as each breath seemed to be a struggle. Elizabeth lightly touched the woman’s forehead, and tears came to her eyes as she contemplated how sad it was that this woman had no one on the ship to grieve for her. Her husband, who was already in America, would not find out about his wife until the ship reached the shore.
Elizabeth sat for what seemed an eternity of intermittent breaths until finally, one last breath was sucked in and then slowly let out, her lungs never to fill with air again. Elizabeth watched as a peace overtook the woman’s face; a peace that she had not seen in this woman at all since meeting her. Perhaps the hardships of her life had been many, and now, she was finally in a much more desirable place.
But that comfort still did not prevent Elizabeth from collapsing in a heap crying. Others around her sniffled, some merely walked away, offering simple words of prayer or comfort, but Elizabeth could not tear herself from this woman. Perhaps she could have done more. Perhaps she should have spent more time with her instead of Mrs. Rawlings or remained down here instead of going back to her comfortable room with Mr. Darcy. She thought with regret that if Mrs. Trimble had been given the opportunity to come up out of steerage as she had, perhaps she would be in good health and still alive today.
At length she felt a strong arm reach down and pull her up, and she looked up to see that it was Darcy. “Come, Elizabeth. She is in better hands, now.”
He picked Elizabeth up, and as he carried her up the stairs, she turned toward him, burying her head against him, letting the tears fall. His arms tightened around her as she sought to find some sort of solace in them. He carried her upstairs back into their room and sat down with her on her bed, still holding her in his arms. He began to slowly rock, as he often had to do with Georgiana when she was downcast, and waited for her tears to cease.
“I am sorry,” Elizabeth struggled to say between sobs, feeling completely foolish and unable to stop her crying. “I cannot help but think there might have been something more I could have done for her.”
Darcy reached up and stroked her long hair that she had not had time to put up when she left so abruptly earlier. “I assure you, Elizabeth, you did all you could have done for her. The captain said she was in a gravely weakened state when she came onboard, but no one was aware of it soon enough.”
He did not say any more, being content to simply hold her and stroke her great length of dark hair, occasionally letting his fingers dig deeply into her thick tresses. He kept his face averted from hers, for her close presence was greatly unnerving him and he felt that if he looked down and she were to look up and meet his eyes, he would be hard-pressed not to lean down and kiss her. They continued to sit in silence until her sobs ceased.
He could have held her in his arms indefinitely. Hesitantly, he turned and placed her beside him on the bed. “I shall leave you now so you can get dressed. The captain has said he will have a service for her at ten o’clock.”
“That soon?”
“Yes, it must be so.” His voice oddly sounded firm and resolute. “I shall be up on deck if you wish to have a morning walk.”
Darcy stood up, and Elizabeth suddenly felt an emptiness replace his presence. He had been there to comfort her, and it had been an indescribable strength to her, however momentary. She wished he did not always have to leave. She found herself suddenly wishing that this marriage was real, that she could find solace in his arms, and he did not have to pull away.
When Darcy left the room, Elizabeth forced herself to walk over to the mirror and reluctantly looked at her reflection. Her red eyes and splotchy face were certainly not the looks of a woman who would attract the eye of a man such as Darcy. She splashed some water on her face, trying to rid her eyes of the redness.
After doing all she could to freshen herself up, she looked through her meagre selection of dresses, each one becoming more and more wrinkled and worn. She thought how much she must pale next to Mr. Darcy’s fastidious wardrobe. She finished by putting up her hair and soon left to join her husband up on deck.
When she stepped out, she found Darcy with his arms resting on the side of the ship, his gaze looking out across the water. He had come here to think, to sort out the thoughts that had continued to swarm in his head about Elizabeth. His thoughts went back to the image of her that morning as she climbed out from behind the sheet, to the feel of her in his arms as he consoled her and how it felt so right. As much as he wanted to concede that she was everything he had ever wanted in a woman, a deeper, more practical voice argued that she was not.
What he had done in arranging this façade of a marriage had certainly been a great help to her. But in the long run, could he really seriously consider her as Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley? What would others think? he repeatedly asked himself. What obligations do I have to my name? To my family? He wondered if he did take her back as his wife whether she would be accepted by his circle of society, and that question gnawed away at him in a way that he could not reconcile.
Darcy closed his eyes to that thought. As much as he hated to admit it, he had to think about what others, especially his family, would think. He had to consider his elevated position, her much lower position, and the expectations to marry someone in his sphere. His mind was miles away when Elizabeth came up to him.
They walked in silence that morning. Darcy could not summon up any words, and Elizabeth was too filled with grief to talk.