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.