Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes and it took a few moments to grasp where she was. Her eyes were sore and most likely bloodshot from the tears she shed throughout the night. Her body ached from having slept on the floor all night. She had forgotten what it had been like that first week in steerage sleeping on the floor. But she had not gone down to steerage. She did not think she could bear unwanted questions and speculations.
Instead, she had quickly and secretively slipped into the linens room. She stretched out her limbs, rubbed her eyes, and then threw off the blanket that covered her. With anguish and regret threatening to overwhelm her, she thought back to the events of the previous evening.
***
She had been quite disconcerted that the captain observed her and Darcy kissing, and reproaching herself that she had shamelessly encouraged it, abruptly left Darcy to return to their room. She hastened down the stairs, her heart refused to give up its incessant pounding. To keep her hands from shaking, she grasped them tightly together, rubbing her fingers raw. But every so often she would gently reach up and touch her lips with her fingers. She could still feel the gentle touch of his lips on hers; a kiss that she then unabashedly and foolishly encouraged to build into a fervently deep and passionate kiss.
She closed her eyes in contrition, tossing—as did the ship last night—between remorse for allowing the kiss and pleasure at having experienced it. He must have seen her look of longing when she was thrown against him and looked up into his face. She blushed with shame, as she wondered what had prompted her to draw her arms up and around his back and cling to him as if in immeasurable desperation.
As she entered their room, she sat down on her bed, wondering how she would face him and what she would say to him when he returned.
She dropped her head into her hands. What must he think of me?
She wondered whether he thought she was now expecting something from him beyond what he had stipulated in his proposal. Did he think she had been attempting to entice him to fulfil his duty as her husband on this final night solely to hold him to their vows? Did he think she was hoping to benefit from a marriage to a man of his means even though it began as a charade?
She violently shook her head as these thoughts continued to plague and torment her. She recollected his words when he pulled away. He did not finish what he was trying to say, but he did not have to. Elizabeth could see the look of discomfort written across his face. He was attempting to tell her that they should not have kissed, that he did not think it was prudent for them to continue. Although it should have been Elizabeth’s duty, Darcy was the one who had to stop the kiss. Elizabeth would have allowed it indefinitely, and now she felt all the shame of that.
She sat still, fervently keeping an eye to the door, wondering when he would return. She absently fingered the coverlet that lay on her bed, sketching in her mind what she would say to him, wondering what she should say to him. As each minute ticked away, she could not decide if she more greatly feared his prompt return or desired it.
When he did not return directly, Elizabeth began to feel a sense of disappointment as well as a rising sense of dread. She surmised that he had reservations about coming back to their room. Did he have similar regrets that he kissed her? Could it be that he thought she had behaved too recklessly? Too wantonly? Or was he now aware of those feelings and regard that she had striven so hard to conceal and reluctant to face her? Did he regret the fact that he had married her, despite the conditions he had set forth?
As her thoughts and doubts gathered momentum, Elizabeth began to feel a stronger and stronger inclination to remove herself from the room before he returned. With a sudden surge of determination, she set her mind to the task of quickly packing her duffel, not taking the time to carefully fold her things as she normally would have done.
She grabbed a handful of dresses, all suddenly looking very plain and worn, and packed them away. Her personal items she put in a drawstring bag, placing that in as well. She picked up her shawl and held it tightly to her chest, then laid it beside everything else. When everything was packed, she looked toward the door again, as if to give him one more chance to return.
With her duffel filled with all of her things, and Darcy not yet returned, she picked it up and half-carried half-dragged it to the door, glancing one more time around the room, which was dimly lit by the oil lamp. She looked at her bed, then his, the table and benches, the smaller dresser and mirror. It was a small room, but it had been her salvation on this trip. His completely unexpected proposal to her had allowed her comforts she would not have known.
But she could not look upon it solely as a room that imparted her comforts this past month. There was so much more that happened to her. When did she actually begin to feel as though she was his wife? When did that foggy, confused, and selfish decision to go along with his scheme transform itself into a deep love?
She thought of him holding her as she cried, following Mrs. Trimble’s death; how he sat with her upon her bed and rocked her while her tears flowed. She looked over to the corner of the room where she had helped him remove his shirt last night; then over to the floor where they had eventually fallen asleep in each other’s arms. She then thought of this woman, Caroline , whose name he had called out. It would be unfair to force herself between them.
No, she could not remain here. She dared not. He would see through any disguise she tried to put on and know her heart’s leaning. He may have come to know it already. She did not want to put him in that awkward position. She would leave tonight so she would not have to face him again. And he would be free to follow through with the course he initially set forth.
Just before leaving, she looked back into the room. Whispering softly, she said, “Goodbye, William.” She extinguished the lamp and closed the door behind her. With its closing, she felt as though a chapter in her life was closing as well, and wondered if she would ever be able to move beyond it.
She stepped out of the room, wondering how she would explain her presence in steerage. They would wonder what she was doing there. She suddenly thought of the linens room, and how, that morning she discovered it, she thought it would be pleasant enough to sleep in there. It was just down the hall, an easy enough distance to carry her duffel, hopefully without encountering anyone.
When she came upon the room and entered it, it was dark save for a thread of moonlight coming through the window. She was grateful that no one had seen her, and she set about securing a pillow and a blanket, and spread them out on the floor. She practically collapsed upon them, grateful for the solitude that would allow her to unleash her tears.
She curled up and covered herself with the blanket, but knew that sleep would most likely evade her. She lay for some time with her eyes wide open, fighting back the tears, wondering if he had yet returned to the room and discovered she was gone. Would he consider looking for her? Rationale pushed away any hopeful wishes she entertained and reminded her that he most likely would not. At length she let her tears fall unrestrained and buried her head into the pillow so no one would hear. She gradually fell into a fitful sleep, her dreams becoming surreal and haunting.
In the first dream, she seemed to be trapped on a ship that was sinking. Lifeboats were picking up passengers, but no one seemed to notice her. She could not move; she was alone and afraid. She could see William and knew his strong arms could easily pull her to safety. But he was looking the other way. She tried to scream, but could not. She watched in agony as he turned and walked away from her.
In another dream, she reached the shores of America and eagerly met her aunt and uncle. They greeted her with the startling news that they had arranged for her to marry someone the very next day and hurried her away to get ready. She was terribly confused and disturbed because she did not know how to tell them that she was already married. In a fragment of that dream, she was in a church dressed beautifully as a bride and standing up in the front next to a strange man. In great desperation she frantically tried to stop the wedding, but no one listened to her. As she looked toward the back of the church, she saw William standing there looking up the aisle at her; again he turned and walked away.
Her dreams finally ceased, at least that she could remember, and she fell into a more restful sleep for the remaining few hours of the night.
***
Now a new day was upon her, and as she saw the sunlight beginning to peer through the window, a strange noise drew her attention away from her thoughts. It was unlike any sound she had heard in the course of the voyage.
As she struggled to determine just what it was, she realized the movement of the ship was different as well. As the comprehension dawned on her, she opened her eyes widely. They were docked! They had reached land and the ship was being unloaded!
She thought it peculiar that her heart could pound so fiercely, yet at the same time feel so completely broken. How could it continue to beat like this when she was about to walk off this ship, away from the man she had spoken marital vows to? Away from the man she had come to love?
She sat up, knowing that the sooner she made the break, the better off she would be. Perhaps once she was in the loving presence of her aunt and uncle, she could leave this part of her life behind her. She would have to go on as if this month, this voyage—this marriage—had never happened.
She quickly rose and peered out the small window, amazed at what she saw. She had not seen land for over a month, and now they had at long last arrived! She quickly readied herself for going ashore, dragging her duffel to the door and pulling it out into the hall undetected. She then found a sailor willing to assist her and carry her duffel up for her. As she followed him through the hall toward the stairs, she cast a glance in the direction of what had been their room. She wondered if he was already up on deck. What would she say to him if she saw him now?
When she came up on to the deck, she was not prepared for the sight. She looked out and saw land, trees, birds, people scurrying about, and carriages awaiting disembarking passengers. A flutter in her heart again reminded her just what it would mean for her to step off this ship. She slowly followed the sailor toward the gangway that would take her ashore, and he pointed out where the stowed luggage was being brought out and where she could pick up a waiting carriage.
With each step toward the beckoning land, her heart grew heavier and heavier. She found herself looking back, hoping to see Darcy come off the ship in search of her. She knew he had to be up by now. It was much later in the morning than when they had normally taken their daily walks. Each time she looked back, however, she was disappointed.
With each step she took, she felt herself grow increasingly unsteady. It became more and more of an effort to walk away from the ship. Her eyes seemed glued to the last step of the ramp that would take her from the ship and on to land. She could not look beyond it. Just as she was about to place her foot down onto that first parcel of land, she paused. Was it really within her to leave like this, without any thank you; without any wishes for his health and happiness; without any goodbye?
Looking back one last time, she gave the slightest consideration to turning back. She swept her eyes back and forth over the length of the ship, as if giving him a chance to appear, willing him to appear. Faced with the bleak realization that he was purposely keeping himself sequestered in his room, she took in a deep breath and decided she must keep going.
She took that final step off the ship, which brought her upon this new land, and as she did, she felt an unexpected and unexplainable pain grip her in the depths of her stomach. She wrapped her arms tightly about her, stooping down to help bear the pain.
It was a fleeting pain, but very real. As she pulled herself back up, she took some deep breaths, closed her eyes, and slowly took a few more steps onto American soil, feeling as though something had just been wrenched out of her.
She inquired of the carriages waiting, finding the one that had been dispatched to take her to the Gardiners’ home. The driver quickly helped her aboard, securing her duffel, and going in search of the trunk she had stowed. She sat alone in the carriage, grateful to be hidden from inquiring eyes, but unable to keep her gaze from drifting back to the area where passengers were gathering as they walked off the ship. It became difficult to take each breath as she began to give in to the despair that he was not to come.
She prayed that the driver would delay in finding her trunk; that perhaps he would be required to wait for some other passengers he was hired to convey. He returned directly, however, stowing the trunk most efficiently.
He then addressed her. “The ride should take no more than a half an hour, miss. Just make yourself comfortable. And welcome to America!”
Elizabeth barely forced a smile in return as she turned her attention once again to the passengers coming off the ship. She scanned the crowd, knowing she would recognize his tall form easily, the way he walked, his unruly curly hair. As the driver gave the signal for the horses to begin drawing the carriage, she tensed up, her breathing becoming increasingly difficult. She knew that with this last look back, it was his last chance to appear, her last chance to ever see him again.
As she looked up, her eyes filled with tears, and she was no longer able to distinguish anyone in the crowd. The carriage slowly began to pull away, and as it did, Elizabeth caught one last glance at the front of the ship where the name was inscribed: Pemberley’s Promise .
Although it was blurred because of her tears, the name of the ship hit her with a greater realization than ever before. It was a name full of promise for those who were headed for the new world. But for her, it was a ship of broken promises. Upon this very ship she had made vows and promises, not three weeks ago, that neither she, nor the man she had married, intended to keep.
She leaned forward as the carriage pulled away, allowing her to have one final glimpse of the ship, and when she could see it no longer, she leaned back into the seat of the carriage and let her tears fall and her sobs pour forth from her, whispering a soft, “I shall never see him again.”
***
Inside the ship, finally stirring within his room, Darcy lifted his head groggily from the table. He opened his eyes and strained to focus them as he glanced around the room, struggling to form at least one coherent thought. His head throbbed with pain, and he succumbed to lowering it again onto the table in front of him.
He sat still for a moment, struggling to recall what had happened. Why was he in the state he was in? When he opened his eyes again, they fell upon Elizabeth’s empty bed, and suddenly his heart lurched.
He fought back a wave of nausea as he struggled to stand, balancing his involuntary swaying by placing both hands firmly on the table. Only one thought came to his mind. I must find Elizabeth before she departs!
The will to put into action what his thoughts impelled him to do, however, was hindered by the state he was in. He glanced at the floor to find the empty decanter that must have rolled off the table sometime in the night and spilled.
Mercy! How much did I drink last night? With each faltering step he took, he fought a rising tide of dread and nausea combating with each other to bring him down into a state of despair.
He reached the door, opened it, and leaned against the doorframe, bringing his hand up to his head and taking in some deep breaths. He tried to rub out the pain that seared inside his head, but the pain would not relent. He decided he would have to take one step at a time, but he must get out. As he walked toward the stairway, he hugged the wall, using it as a source of support.
Pulling himself up the stairs to the top deck, he used his hands on the railing to the same extent that he pushed himself up with his feet. When he finally came up, he squinted in the brightness of the sun, which was too intense for his eyes and seemed to delve straight to the pain in his head. It was also a very strong indicator that it was much later in the morning than he really wanted it to be. He was fairly certain she would have risen by now and would most likely be close to leaving, if she had not already.
There were many people on the deck, scurrying about, carrying their belongings, saying goodbye to one another, and cheerfully heading in sundry different directions in search of a new life. His eyebrows pinched together as he frantically searched the crowd for Elizabeth. Throngs of people passed him, but he did not even make an attempt to see if he recognized anyone. He made his way to the ship’s railing and collapsed against it, closing his eyes for just a moment as he tried to regain some strength and clear his head.
He saw that carriages were already being loaded up, and noticed one was already departing. He dropped his head down, closed his eyes, and in a plea of desperation appealed to One mightier than himself. “God, please let her still be on the ship. Please let me see her before she departs!”
It hurt to open his eyes and look out among the crowd, but the pain of not seeing her was greater. With each passing moment, he became more and more convinced in the depths of him that she had already departed.
He remained where he was, more from an inner struggle of not knowing what to do than from the condition he was in. He had no idea where she had gone. She had told him that her uncle had arranged for an errand boy to watch for the ship’s arrival, and this boy, in turn, would summon a carriage nearby the harbour to pick her up and take her to her uncle’s designated address. He doubted that he would easily be able to find the single carriage that conveyed her away.
As despair began to take hold of him, the captain came by his side.
“Darcy, you do not look well this morning.”
Darcy slowly lifted his head. “You have the gift of discernment, Wendell.”
“I assume things did not go well with Mrs. Darcy last night.”
Darcy turned to look at him. “She had already left when I returned to the room. I was hoping to come upon her this morning, but it appears I overslept and missed her.”
“I understand she was one of the first off the ship.”
Darcy winced as the words confirmed the finality of the situation. He hung his head at the captain’s pronouncement.
“You are not usually one to sleep in, Darcy.”
Darcy let out a frustrated sigh. “I… uh… had a little too much to drink last night.”
The captain silently nodded. “Come back to my room and get yourself some strong, hot coffee. You will feel much better afterwards.”
“I doubt that, sir.”
The two walked silently to the captain’s room. He poured some strong coffee into a cup and gave it to Darcy.
“Drink this. You may not feel better, but you should be able to think better and decide what you must do.”
Darcy gave in to the captain’s suggestion and began drinking the coffee, as he gave in to his body’s demands and closed his eyes. His head still pounded, but now there was a rising sense of despair as he knew he may have missed his final opportunity to tell Elizabeth how he felt; to tell her that he had come to love her.
The captain silently watched Darcy as he drank the coffee, and offered him some freshly baked bread and fresh fruit that had been brought aboard. Darcy declined.
Wendell knew he should be up bidding his passengers farewell and making sure things were going smoothly. But at the moment he felt Darcy required some attention. He had never seen the man in this state, and now regretted having agreed to perform the wedding ceremony under the conditions Darcy set forth.
Out of the blue, Darcy said, “I do not even know how I am going to find her again.”
“Darcy, you do not have to try to find her while she is here. Wait until you return to England.”
Darcy looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. “We talked very little about our personal lives. I have no idea even where she lives, other than some small village in Hertfordshire.”
The captain looked across the desk at his longtime acquaintance and felt moved by his sense of loss. Here was a man of great wealth, superior position in society, excellent connections, and one who most likely never had to think twice about getting what he wanted. It was amazing to consider how the one thing Darcy discovered he wanted had been completely in his grasp, only to slip away.
The captain opened a drawer and pulled out a booklet. “Let us look in here, shall we?”
Darcy looked up. “What is that?”
“The ship’s manifest.” He opened the large book and thumbed through a couple of pages. “We do keep a record of every passenger who boards this ship to America.”
Suddenly Darcy’s eyes widened, his heartbeat quickened in hope, and he leaned over, trying to decipher the writings that were entered. Being unable to read upside down, in addition to his inability to focus clearly, Darcy walked around to the other side of the desk and began looking for the name, Elizabeth Bennet.
They scanned down the names on the first page but hers was not there. Darcy felt a sense of anxiety course through him as he looked upon the names. In no way could he call the manner in which they were written “handwriting.” It was more like they were scribbled, and he wondered if they would recognize her name at all. He only hoped the captain would be able to decipher the entries better than he could in the state he was in.
After going through the first two pages, they were halfway down the third when the captain found her name. “Here it is! Elizabeth Bennet!” He took his finger and followed the line across the page. “Hertfordshire.”
“Yes, I know that.”
He followed it farther. “Hmmm.” The captain and Darcy both had the identical thought. “This may be difficult to make out.”
The first letter was definitely an “L” but what followed could only be described as a tumble of unreadable marks. The captain sighed. “Well, Darcy, it begins with an ‘L’, and it looks as though there is a ‘g’ or a ‘p’ or maybe a ‘y’ here.”
Darcy rolled his eyes, eager to blame anyone for anything this morning. “Who wrote this anyway?”
“One of our clerks in the office.” The captain stood up. “I’ll leave you to sober up a little and try to decipher this while I go back to my duties. Drink as much coffee as you need, and please help yourself to something to eat. It is the best food we have had in weeks!”
As the door shut behind the captain, Darcy began to feel a sense of despair coming over him again. Will I ever find her? Will I ever see Elizabeth again?
After making a vain attempt to make sense of the writing, Darcy returned to his room. He began to feel the sobering effects of the coffee, but knew he had to attend to the emotionally arduous task of packing his things. He lifted the sampler Elizabeth had inadvertently left behind, taking prodigious care of it. He held it between his fingers, looking at it more carefully this time, and noticed how she had worked her initials, “EB,” into the tendrils of a vine. He let out a soft “humph” as he contemplated that she had, unfortunately, used the letter “B” of her unmarried name.
As he emptied the drawers of clothes and placed them in his duffel, he unexpectedly came across their marriage certificate. As he looked upon it, he drew in a quick breath, having almost forgotten that he had secured it in one of the drawers.
His eyes narrowed at the sight of Elizabeth’s signature, and he found himself drawing a finger over her name. Elizabeth Julianne Bennet. Hertfordshire.
He looked back up at the top, seeing his name and hers, united together in matrimony. He dropped the hand that was holding the certificate to his side. How long ago that seemed. So much had happened; none of which was what he had intended. Or had he?
He thought back to that day he asked for her hand in a marriage that, he told her, would be annulled once he returned to England. No one need ever know. But just moments before that impulsive proposal, he had discovered she was the same young lady who had captured his heart in a short carriage ride two years earlier. He wondered whether in truth he wanted to fall in love with her, wanted her to fall in love with him, and for her to be his cherished wife always. Could it be that deep down he felt this was the only way to secure her as his wife? That it was the only way to do it and not address their difference in station?
Darcy shook his head. Then why did I struggle so with my feelings? Why did I wait so long to decide I could not live without her? Why did I have to wait so long that now I have lost her?
Filled with remorse, Darcy attempted to finish the task of packing his things. His head was clearer now, but his heart was still reeling. Why did I not ask her where she would be staying while here? Or where specifically she lived in England? Is there any chance I will see her again?
These questions and more plagued him as he readied himself to leave. At length he picked up his duffel, took one last glance about the room, and departed.
Upon leaving, he took notice of the captain, and walked over to him to pay his respects. “Thank you for all you did, Captain. I know I was not the ideal passenger.”
“Will you be returning with us to England in two weeks?”
“I think not. I think it best not to return on the Pemberley, as I would not want any of the crew to inadvertently speak to Georgiana of my marriage—or my pretence of a marriage.”
“One word to them, Darcy, and their lips are sealed.”
Darcy shook his head. “No. I think it best that we return on another ship.”
“I shall look into whether any of Stearnes’ other ships are in port that will be leaving in the near future to return to England. You should have no difficulty securing passage on one if it is in port. Most people are sailing to America and not the other way around.”
“Thank you.”
“And Darcy…”
“Yes, Captain?”
“I shall look further into where your wife calls home. If I find out anything more, I will assuredly let you know.”
Darcy extended his hand. “Thank you, and God bless, Captain.”
Wendell nodded as he watched his friend turn sullenly and disembark, wondering whether there would be anything he could do to help him. He would certainly make the effort.