He sat down, wishing there was something he could do to engage her spirits. He never knew what to do when Georgiana was feeling down, and he felt the same awkwardness with Elizabeth. He nervously tapped his fingers on the table, bringing a smile to Elizabeth.
“Mr. Darcy, you do not need to stay here with me. I am feeling improved.”
Feeling a sense of disappointment that she still chose to address him with such formality, he responded, “I do not mind being here with you, as long as you do not mind.” He sat down across the table from her.
Elizabeth looked at him and saw a tenderness she had never before seen. “Thank you.” She wondered at his behaviour at times. She had to remind herself continually that their marriage was a pretence, but there were times when her husband played the caring, concerned, even loving husband all too well. It was those times when his behaviour had her most confused.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
Elizabeth shrugged. “It just seemed so sudden, so definite.” She put her needlework down and looked up at him. “It is not that Mrs. Trimble was really that close to me, but that I had been seeing her almost every day for some time now. I have never had anyone close to me die before. At least that I can remember.”
“You are fortunate. I have lost both my mother and my father.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened at this personal disclosure. “I am so sorry.” She was surprised that he had not mentioned that fact before, and she impulsively reached out her hand to place it on his in a comforting gesture. When he looked down upon it resting on his hand, she hesitantly pulled it back.
“So it is just you and your sister?” she managed to ask, nervously tightening her withdrawing hand into a fist.
“And a few odd relatives.” He looked back at her hand, almost willing it to return atop of his.
Elizabeth laughed. “I have a few odd relatives myself.”
Darcy smiled, grateful that she was not so despondent that she could not laugh. Elizabeth was suddenly struck by how attractive he was when he smiled. She mused to herself that she would like to see him smile more often.
Then Darcy said something quite unusual. “I have one cousin, a younger cousin, who actually prefers walking to riding. Can you imagine?” He seemed intent to watch her, waiting for her response.
“I most certainly can! I prefer that myself!”
Darcy’s heart leaped as Elizabeth continued. “I actually have never felt safe around horses. I merely try to keep my distance if I can.”
She laughed as she wondered why he would consider this an odd trait, and continued, “And Mr. Darcy, if this is the extreme of your odd relatives, I would gladly trade any of my odd relatives for yours!”
He was drawn to her fine eyes when she laughed and felt himself becoming more and more lost in the depths of them. It was especially difficult now, being fairly confident that Elizabeth was the one in the carriage who so briefly captured his heart two years prior.
With this confirming revelation and the amount of time he had spent with Elizabeth, he found it difficult to hold firmly to his resolve to keep his distance emotionally from her. He began to wonder whether it was prudent to remain in the room with her.
Elizabeth expected Darcy to make a retort about her fear of horses, but he remained silent, an odd expression on his face.
She wondered whether he regretted sharing personal things about his family. She decided to keep things light-hearted. “Although my father is most definitely a gentleman in every sense of the word, his humour can sometimes be sarcastic and teasing. My mother has her sole objective in life to marry off all her daughters, and my younger sisters are all very silly, indeed.”
Darcy smiled, not being able to take his eyes off her. She returned his gaze curiously. She could not entertain any serious notion that it was out of admiration, and could only construe that it was because he was experiencing uneasiness due to the personal nature of their conversation. They remained silent for a time as Elizabeth turned her attention back to her needlework.
“What is that you are employing your time with there?” he struggled to ask.
“A needlework sampler.” She turned it around for him to see. “It is not much. It will be surrounded with flowers and script.”
He looked at it and read the words that she had begun to form with a steady line of stitches. “Think only of the past…”
“Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”
“Is this your philosophy in life?”
Elizabeth nodded. “It is one. I actually have several.”
Darcy began to wonder how she would look upon her time on this ship; how she would look upon him when this was all in the past. Would she be able to consider him with any pleasure?
“You are fortunate if you can truly live by it.” He looked down in reflection. “I have a very unyielding temper. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever.”
“That is unfortunate, indeed. I pity anyone who may have wronged you.”
Darcy looked at her with an odd expression on his face, as if he were recalling some particular person who had hurt him in the past.
He stood up and walked over to her, lifting the sampler from her. She grew somewhat unsettled as his tall, close presence and attention stirred those feelings again in her that she knew not how to counter. The satisfaction it gave her, however, left her feeling that she did not want to counter it.
An unspoken mutual admiration and respect drew them closer that day. As the last days of the ship’s journey were upon them, Darcy knew he was faced with making a decision regarding Elizabeth that, if dependent solely upon his feelings and, even now, his intellect, would be easy to make.
His feelings he had no control over. They had grown stronger just from being in her presence, enjoying her company. He believed she enjoyed his as well, although he had to admit that she seemed to enjoy the company of most people on this ship. His intellect was stimulated by conversations he had with her that gave evidence of her own intellect and liveliness.
But the deeper recesses of his being still demanded he think beyond his personal partiality and consider how she would, or would not, be accepted by his whole circle of family and acquaintances. Surely there would be those who would graciously accept any woman he deemed worthy of his hand. But there would be others who would go out of their way to make life unbearable for him and her alike.
He lay awake those last few nights on the ship, listening to the sound of her breathing, and he tossed and turned as the battle waged even more fiercely. He struggled for that which was so close to him, yet so far.
He knew himself too well to know that once he had it settled in his mind, he would adamantly set forth to attain that which he so greatly desired. He knew it would put him in an awkward position with Elizabeth if she did not return similar leanings of her heart toward him. If he approached her with his strong feelings of regard and she did not return them, she would most likely no longer feel comfortable sharing the room with him, but that would be comparatively minor compared to the anguish he would suffer. At length he determined he would have to wait until they were just upon American soil. He knew, however, where the inclinations of his heart lay.
Elizabeth, unaware of his struggle, tried not to look ahead at what lay before her. She put aside all thoughts about their inevitable parting, and daily strove to enjoy their time together. They got along exceedingly well, apart from her stubborn nature that tended to clash fiercely with the authoritative streak he possessed. Although she was not a woman who easily retreated from obstacles she faced in life, she would never consider pressuring Mr. Darcy to go against his original intent to annul the marriage and retain her as his wife. She was all too aware, although she did not agree with, the irrational obligations those in the first circles of society placed on the position of the person they married.