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FITZWILLIAM WAS MISERABLE, his stomach clenching and twisting as the ship listed back and forth on heavy waves. The storm had taken them by surprise, and the captain had immediately sent all the passengers belowdecks to their cabins. He looked across the room where Charles slept peacefully, seemingly unaware of how the ship was rocking, and the ill effects it had on his stomach.
In an attempt to distract himself, and because his cheek still stung, he lifted a hand to touch the area where Miss Bennet had slapped him. He found himself chuckling at the memory, though there had been nothing funny about it at the time. He’d been just as angry as her, but now, as he looked back with the benefit of a few hours of perspective, he found some amusement in the incident.
She’d looked so enraged, and her fine eyes, already pretty, had become captivating. For a woman, she had a firm right hook as well, though she’d not punched him. Her palm had connected with his face, and he was grateful she had worn a glove, because he would likely have a bruise rather than just some tenderness if she had not.
It was a surprise to see that hint of passion in her, sparked by her mother bear instincts to protect her sister. Perhaps he had been too blunt with his opinion, but he couldn’t deny he’d wanted to generate just such a response. There was something invigorating about arguing with Miss Bennet. Though he was a man unaccustomed to anything but harmonious accord in his domestic relationships, he couldn’t deny he enjoyed trading barbs with her. It was almost like a form of foreplay.
He froze at the thought, forcefully rejecting it. Miss Bennet was entirely unsuitable, no matter what physical response she might engender within him. He might want to bend her over the rail and kiss her senseless, but he was in control of himself enough not to do so. She was eminently unsuitable for a wife, but she was far too respectable to make a mistress.
Fitzwilliam had never been one for keeping a mistress anyway. There was something sordid about the exchange of sex for money that bothered him. He was practical enough to understand why some women engaged in the practice, securing a better future than they would’ve had as serving girls, governesses, or companions. He could certainly see why a woman would choose to have one benefactor over many, and he wasn’t so prudish that he didn’t understand men and women both had needs of a sexual nature, but it was an arrangement that had never suited him.
It was only when he found himself contemplating the idea of approaching Lizzy with such an offer last week that he had realized the depths of his attraction to her. He’d done his best to fight it every step of the way, but he had not yet managed to conquer the weakness. Since he was never going to enjoy the charms of holding Miss Bennet in his arms, it was a distant second to settle for trading witticisms and caustic comments.
He was distracted from his thoughts when the ship heaved particularly hard, and there was a cracking sound above. Darcy reached for the chamber pot, emptying the contents of his stomach before he rolled out of the berth and stood up. He walked over to Charles, shaking his friend on the shoulder. “Wake up, Charles. I think something is wrong.”
Charles’s eyes snapped open, and he looked instantly alarmed. “Is it Miss Jane?”
Fitzwilliam would’ve been more annoyed with his friend’s first thoughts being for Miss Jane if he wasn’t wondering similarly about the safety and state of Miss Elizabeth at the time. “I do not know. I heard a cracking sound from above, and I think it bodes ill.”
“We must check on them then.” Charles leapt out of bed, rushing to the dressing screen in the corner and emerging in record time wearing a shirt, breeches, and a waistcoat. He had not bothered with a cravat or jacket, and Fitzwilliam was in a similar state of dishabille, but it seemed unwise to take extra time to dress the part of the gentleman at the moment.
They departed their cabin together, walking rapidly down the hall. The Bennet sisters were at the end, tucked into what had likely been the cheapest cabin available, since it offered no view.
Fitzwilliam knocked firmly on the door, and it opened a moment later. Lizzy was in her nightdress and dressing gown. She seemed embarrassed when he stared at her, but she didn’t look away or close the door. “Do either of you know what that sound was, Mr. Bingley?” Oddly enough, though she asked Charles, her gaze was still locked with Fitzwilliam’s. She had the good grace to flush a little, and he supposed she was recalling how violently she had reacted to his statement earlier.
“We do not, but we intend to find out.” Fitzwilliam did his best to ignore his stomach churning with nausea from the rough rocking of the boat. He was thankful he had emptied the contents into the chamber pot, so there was nothing left to bring up, though the urge to do so remained.
“We should come with you,” said Jane briskly, peering from behind Lizzy. Unlike her sister, she was fully dressed.
“I do not think that is wise, Miss Jane,” said Charles. “It could be rough up there, or perhaps dangerous.”
“I would rather know if there is danger instead of hiding here in the cabin,” said Jane.
“Quite right,” said Lizzy.
Fitzwilliam reluctantly admired the spunk of both sisters. He could hardly imagine Miss Bingley or even his dear sister Georgiana having the same kind of fortitude. They would’ve locked themselves in the cabin and deferred to the gentlemen’s judgment of whether further action must be taken.
Not bothering to argue with the sisters, he started walking forward. Charles apparently had realized it was futile as well, and he followed behind them, with the two women between them.
They were not the only passengers investigating the sound that had woken them, along with making the ship list violently left and then right again. Lizzy started to fall forward, her hand touching his lower back for a moment as she braced herself. With concern, he turned to face her. “You are well, Miss Bennet?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I suppose. The sea is dreadfully rough this evening.”
Fitzwilliam nodded, resisting the urge to offer an arm to steady her. He was certain she would reject such an innocent gesture prompted solely from decency. It had nothing to do with wanting to feel her skin close to his, while knowing she was likely only wearing two layers of clothing. His breeches grew uncomfortably tight for a moment at the thought, but the tossing of the ocean soon distracted him again.
They followed the line of passengers abovedeck, and it was far worse than Fitzwilliam had expected. Stepping up, he reached out a hand to assist Lizzy, and she actually took it without protest. Once he was assured she was secure, he held out a hand to Miss Jane, offering her similar assistance. When Charles joined them a moment later, he stood behind Jane, his hands on her hips to help steady her. It was an inappropriate position and inadequate distance between them, but Fitzwilliam was far more concerned about what was happening around them than he was about matters of propriety, or how close his friend was getting to the unacceptable Miss Jane.
They had lost the mast. No wonder the ship was tossing about so fitfully, and as three frantic men ran by, Fitzwilliam heard one of them saying they needed to launch the lifeboats.
Alarmed by that, he looked around until he spotted the captain, who was wrestling with the wheel. He rushed over to him, darting through the crowd and doing his best not to fall on the slippery deck, though he skidded once and almost rammed into another passenger.
When he reached Captain Isaiah, he said, “How bad is it, Captain?”
The elder man cursed and heaved against the wheel. “’Tis bad enough, Mr. Darcy. Lightning took the mast, and as it did so, it damaged a portion of the hull while falling. The ship is taking on water, and ‘tis such a prodigious amount there is no way we can repair the breach. We must abandon ship.”
Fitzwilliam turned back toward his friend and the Bennet sisters, only to realize he’d lost them in the crowd. He looked around, moving through the other frantic passengers, who were lining up for the lifeboats. Word must’ve quickly circulated they had to abandon ship.
He caught sight of Lizzy then, eyes wide with shock when he saw her darting below-deck again. She didn’t seem like the type who might cower in her state room, hoping to ignore the problem, and he darted after her, wondering at her foolishness. “Miss Bennet, come back.” The strong wind and driving rain stole his words before she ever had hope of hearing them, and he plunged after her down the stairs.
He found her a moment later, entering the cabin she shared with Miss Jane. He stood in the doorway, staring at her in shock. “Whatever are you doing, woman? We must abandon ship. The captain has given the order.”
“I know. I read his lips as you spoke to him.” She didn’t look up at him as she continued to frantically search her trunk.
She had garments in one hand, and he shook his head. “Surely you did not come back here for clothes?”
“No, but I might as well take some while I am here. Oh, where is it?” She sounded aggrieved.
He moved closer, realizing she was panicking, but it didn’t seem to be from the storm. “For what are you searching? Perhaps I can help you find it, and we can get to safety sooner.”
“My father’s favorite book. He left me a letter in there, written when he knew he was going to die. I have never read it, so I must find it. Do you see?”
He frowned in confusion. “Why have you not read it?” As he asked, he turned to the nightstand nearest him to open the drawer, looking for a book but turning up nothing.
“He said I must read it when I am certain I am in love. It has remained sealed, and so I have had no opportunity to do so, because I have not felt love. They were practically his dying words to me, Mr. Darcy.”
He was about to insist she was going to have to give up the letter anyway, prepared to carry her out of the cabin if required, when she let out a cry of relief. She must’ve found what she sought, and she grasped the book, opening it long enough to ensure there was something inside.
He saw an envelope tucked into it before she secured it in a bag she took from a hook on the wall. It was an oilskin, and he hoped it would provide some protection for her treasured possession, especially since she was foolish enough to risk her life—and his—to retrieve it.
As soon as it was in the bag, he grasped her wrist and rushed her out of the room. He didn’t wait for her to catch up, and when she slowed a little, he looked down and saw she was wearing no shoes. With a sigh of impatience, and some care for her feet due to the rough splintering of the wood, he bent down and lifted her, placing her over his shoulder.
He expected her to howl in outrage, but all she did was cling to him, her hands wrapped around his waist from behind. For a moment, he was sidetracked by just how close her thumb was to his manhood, but there was no time to think such improper thoughts.
He rushed them abovedeck again, heading toward the dwindling line for lifeboats. They were in luck, managing to secure spots on one of the last ones launched, along with three other passengers.
It was a rough drop into the water, and Lizzy cried out with shock, surprising Fitzwilliam when she clung to him for a moment. He wrapped his arms around her, a reassuring presence while taking comfort in having her with him.
He held her like that for more than an hour, as the small boat was tossed about by the waves. There were oars, but there was no point in trying to wield them at the moment. They would be no match for the strength of the sea. He could only hope they weren’t washed away.
As if the thought had brought the action, a wave suddenly broke over them, tipping over the boat and sending the occupants into the water. She stiffened, and he clung to her for a moment before realizing she was pulling away to swim. She seemed to be competent, but he kept hold of the hem of her dressing gown to ensure he didn’t lose her as they swam to the surface.
When they broke through a moment later, the rain was still drenching them, but it was safe to take a deep breath. He was certain Lizzy did the same, though he couldn’t hear anything over the crash of the storm.
It was difficult to see anything in the dark water, and there was little moon in the sky to provide illumination. Fortunately, a crack of thunder, followed by lightning, illuminated the area long enough for him to see the lifeboat floating nearby. It was upside down, but he directed Lizzy toward it, guessing she had seen its location as well.
Together, they managed to tip it over and upright, and though it had some water in the bottom, he thought they could still float. He assisted her in before dragging himself into it as well, and then he looked around, hoping to find the other three who’d shared the boat with them.
At first, there was no sign, but when another flash of lightning streaked the sky, he saw a hand sticking up as someone struggled to break the surface. He leaned over as far as he dared, conscious of Lizzy grabbing hold of his waist to steady him, and he grasped the hand to pull the young woman free from the ocean, dragging her back into the lifeboat.
She had a nasty gash on her head, and he worried about her, but he was preoccupied looking for the other two. A moment later, the boat tipped to the side, and he looked over to see a young man pulling himself out of the water. He landed in the water at the bottom of the boat, dragging in deep lungsful of air for a long moment.
He grimaced when he saw the piece of wood sticking out the young man’s side. He looked at Lizzy as lightning flashed again, seeing similar concern in her gaze when it lit up the wound well enough for them to tell it was dreadful.
“Where is the other passenger?” called the young lady, seeming frantic. She was holding her head and wincing.
Fitzwilliam shook his head as he looked around. “I do not see her.” It was too dangerous to jump from the lifeboat and swim, hoping to find the fifth person who’d been in there with them. He couldn’t help thinking that if Lizzy were the one in the water, he would’ve taken the risk, but he held back for a stranger.
He couldn’t explain why she drew him, but it seemed vitally important to protect Lizzy above anyone else, and though that was an uncomfortable thought, he didn’t shy away from it. They were in mortal peril, and if he could help Lizzy in any fashion, he was prepared to sacrifice anyone else who was a stranger to do so.
They continued to search as they were subjected to the mercy of the storm, since the oars were gone now, but the fifth passenger never reappeared. Fitzwilliam could only assume the woman had gone to her death in the deep below. He shuddered at the thought, glancing at Lizzy again when lightning lit the sky, vowing she would not suffer such a fate.
***
HE’D FALLEN ASLEEP cold and miserable, but now Fitzwilliam woke hot and miserable. He looked up balefully at the sky, which was full of sun beaming down on them, with no shelter in sight. He glanced over to find Lizzy staring out at the water with a pensive expression.
As though she sensed his gaze upon her, she turned to look at him, and their eyes met for a moment. She nibbled on her lower lip, her anxiety obvious. “I do not know when the storm ended, but it is as though it never happened, is it not?” She sounded shocked by the idea.
Fitzwilliam looked around, evaluating the sea. It seemed as placid as the day they’d set sail, but that was still enough to make the boat move more than his stomach liked. He saw no debris strewn around them, and he wondered how far they had drifted from the shipwreck. “Indeed.” Abruptly recalling they shared the space with other passengers, he turned to look at them.
The young woman appeared to be asleep, but it was immediately obvious the young man, who still laid at the bottom of the boat, was gone. His body was pale and stiff, and Darcy winced as he leaned forward, alarmed by the amount of blood around the young man. It was enough to turn the water in the bottom of the boat pink, and he looked up when she gasped.
“He is dead, is he not, Mr. Darcy?” Her eyes were wide with horror.
He nodded. “I am afraid so. There was nothing we could have done for him anyway, Miss Bennet.”
She closed her eyes. “Still, he died alone from that trauma with none of us holding his hand or asking about him. How remiss of us.”
Darcy tamped down a surge of guilt. “You are right. We were remiss, but the circumstances were, and continue to be, dreadful. It was all we could do to get through the storm.” He eyed the young man before reaching down, opening his jacket.
Lizzy looked at him. “Whatever are you doing, Mr. Darcy?” She sounded scandalized, as though she suspected he was about to pick over the possessions of the departed young man.
He scowled up at her. “I am hoping he carries some sort of identification, Miss Bennet.” It would provide some closure to his family—assuming the rest of them were rescued and could provide the information about the young man.
Searching through his pockets revealed a folded bank draft with his name on it, along with the balance revealing he had one hundred and two pounds to his name. Apparently, he had decided to start over in America.
Darcy was sad for the young man as he folded Mr. Pennyworth’s bank draft and put it in his pants pocket, abruptly realizing he wore no jacket, cravat, or waistcoat. He tried not to be embarrassed by his current state lacking propriety. “I am afraid I must do something unpleasant, Miss Bennet.”
She was looking at him with concern. “What is that, Mr. Darcy?”
“I must heave his body overboard.”
She scowled. “You cannot without so much as a Christian burial.”
His mouth tightened. “I do not enjoy the prospect either, but it is unhealthy to leave the dead body on the boat with us. We will say a prayer for him, and we know his name, so we can pass it along to his relatives.”
After a second, she looked resigned as she nodded. “Yes, I suppose it must be done. What is his name, sir?”
“Harry Pennyworth.” As Darcy spoke his name, he lifted the legs. He anticipated handling the grim business in two stages, first getting the legs over the side of the boat before moving around to try to lift the rest of the man into the water. It surprised him when Lizzy leaned forward and lifted the man’s shoulders, obviously straining with the exertion, but together, they managed to lift him up and over the side of the boat, gently dropping him into the water.
“Farewell, Mr. Pennyworth. I hope your afterlife is happier than this one.” Lizzy said a prayer for him.
Darcy muttered, “Amen,” when she had finished.
They both turned their attention to the woman sharing the space with them after that, realizing she’d still not roused. Darcy recalled she had a fierce head injury, and he leaned forward as Lizzy did the same. Their heads almost collided before he pulled back, and she gave an awkward laugh. “I apologize, Mr. Darcy. We apparently had the same thought at the same time.”
He nodded, not verbally responding. He was unsettled they had similar thought processes. He wanted nothing in common with her, and thus far, he had seemed to have his wish. She was most improper, and she would never suit him—so why could he not stop thinking about her?
Darcy waited for Lizzy to reach out and touch the woman’s shoulder. She shook her gently, but there was no response. Lizzy pulled lightly on her, and the woman slumped forward before falling onto her back as Lizzy caught her. She was breathing, but she showed no sign of awareness.
Darcy leaned forward, pressing a hand under her nose to ensure she was inhaling and exhaling, and she was, but he thought more slowly than normal. He looked up as Lizzy took her wrist, feeling for a pulse.
She frowned. “She is alive, but I think her heart is beating weakly.”
Looking at the gash across her temple, he realized how deep it was. He could see part of her skull. He had no idea if she had sustained it before the lifeboat capsized or during the evacuation, but it was dreadfully swollen.
He reached over to peel up one of her eyelids and then the other, finding one pupil was far larger than the other. He was not medically trained in any way, but he suspected that was a bad sign. “I do not know that she will awaken, Miss Bennet. All we can do is try to make her comfortable if we can.”
She looked around, her thoughts on the matter clear. “How will we do that, Mr. Darcy? We have no food or water, or even any shade.”
He pressed his lips together bleakly. “I do not have any answers for you, Miss Bennet. I have never been in such a situation either.”
Surprisingly, her expression softened as she nodded. “Of course, Mr. Darcy. I did not mean to imply you did, or you should know all the answers. I am frustrated and frightened, I suppose.”
He nodded. “As am I, Miss Bennet.”
He looked away when he realized she was starting to remove her night rail. He wondered if it was because it was hot, or if she had another purpose. It soon became obvious she was using it to drape over the unconscious woman sprawled between them.
He wanted to suggest she keep it for her own complexion instead, but he knew she would not be so selfish to do so. From what he’d observed of her, though she was completely unsuitable to be his bride, she seemed to be a compassionate woman, and she obviously cared greatly for her sister, and apparently, that care extended to strangers as well.
Why not him? It was a strange, sullen thought, and he felt ridiculous as it came to him. They had rubbed each other wrong from the start, and as the very real possibility he might be stranded alone with her until rescue sank in, his stomach heaved again. It wasn’t the rocking of the boat this time. It was a strange mix of dread and anticipation, and he clenched his hands into fists.
When he realized they might not be rescued, and this situation could last for the rest of their short lives, true nausea surged in him, and he bent over the boat to release the contents of his stomach. When he sat back, he felt weak, both physically and emotionally, though he saw only care and concern on Lizzy’s face. He still flushed with the revelation of his vulnerability, and he did his best to steer the subject away from what he’d just done. “I do hope Charles and Miss Jane made it to safety as well.”
She looked around for a moment. “So do I. We are not yet safe, but I think I see land over the horizon.” She pointed in the direction as she spoke.
He looked that way, agreeing he saw something that could be an island. The question was, could they reach it in time, especially with their oars gone? They would be at the mercy of the ocean, and there was a chance it would drift them in the right direction. If not, it could take them completely the wrong way, and they would likely starve to death or die of dehydration before encountering more land or a rescue party.
“I am certain Mr. Bingley will look out for Jane.”
He frowned. “Why are you sure they are together?” The thought left him uneasy.
She glared at him, apparently taking issue with his tone. “Why are you sure they are not, Mr. Darcy? Mr. Bingley was beside my sister the entire time I was abovedeck, before realizing I had to get Papa’s letter.”
He shook his head. “That was a bit of foolishness.”
She glared at him. “And yet you followed me. What does that say about you, Mr. Darcy?”
“I too am a fool, Miss Bennet.” He refused to contemplate what else it might say about him, like how much the thought of losing her eviscerated him, and how he’d plunged after her in a panic, intent on saving her even though he hadn’t understood the circumstances, or what she was after.
Grudgingly, he wondered if Charles felt the same way for Miss Jane. If so, the two of them were likely together, and if that happened, he could easily envision a scenario where his friend foolishly offered for Miss Jane, despite all her shortcomings.
He was never going to be so foolish, of course. He had a firm handle on his inappropriate attraction to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and nothing would sway him from the prudence of avoiding any further entanglement with her.