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.
Chapter 10
As Darcy and Elizabeth made their way up on deck for Mrs. Trimble’s service, she willingly slipped her hand into Darcy’s extended arm, knowing she would need his strength to get through. People stood or sat on the few available benches, and Elizabeth was grateful they had come up a little early so she could stand close to the captain and hear what he had to say.
The captain began the service reading a passage from the Bible and then opening in prayer. Standing off to the captain’s side, Elizabeth bowed her head deeply. Darcy lowered his head but kept his gaze upon Elizabeth, enjoying her closeness. He then chided himself for being so distracted by her presence when he should be focused on the captain’s words. At length he closed his eyes as he heard the captain close with an “Amen.”
Elizabeth saw that Mrs. Trimble’s body had been put in a white canvas bag of sorts. About halfway through the service, when a brief eulogy was spoken with what little information had been gathered about her life, Elizabeth suddenly realized what was about to transpire. Darcy knew the moment she realized that Mrs. Trimble’s body would be let out into the sea, as she tightened up, tears filled up her eyes again, and she gripped Darcy’s arm more tightly.
Even the prior realization of what was to transpire was not enough to prepare Elizabeth for it. When the sailors lifted the bag and sent it over the edge to sink into the depths of the sea as the captain prayed, Elizabeth turned to Darcy, trying to stifle her sobs. His arms reached around her and drew her more deeply into his chest. They did not move for the longest time, even as everyone slowly began to disperse, and Elizabeth wished that he would never let her go.
After the service, Elizabeth desired some time by herself in their room. Darcy obliged her request and spent most of the day in the dining area where people had gathered and much of the conversation was about Mrs. Trimble. There was also much praise for Elizabeth, which he received graciously.
Feeling a little better but not yet ready to venture out and visit, Elizabeth pulled out the needlework sampler she had begun earlier in the voyage. She felt the healing effect of each embroidery stitch as a few flowers and words appeared by her own doing. She was working on it when Darcy returned.