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Elizabeth had to admit defeat and resolved to send a message to her father via the Marconi transmitter.

It would have to make its way through Newfoundland and then back across the ocean, but she decided not to wait until they landed in New York.

She’d let her father and uncle know that there was nothing she could do to control Lydia.

She was racing headlong into her fate and wouldn’t listen to anyone.

As Lizzy arrived at the radio room, many first-class passengers queued ahead of her, most bubbling with happy conversation.

She wanted to shout at them that she had important news to relay, that her family faced social ruin and her sisters were doomed to disgraced spinsterhood, and that their messages were frivolous and silly.

Instead, she resolved to return to the radio room in the evening, after dinner.

No doubt, the hoi polloi would be otherwise engaged by then.

***

Wickham’s celluloid collar seemed determined to choke him this evening, and he tugged at it with his forefinger, which elicited a stern look from Darcy.

Time to direct his attention elsewhere, and he turned to look upon his bride.

She was so deliciously young and lovely, but he’d had young and lovely before. Many times. Many just like her.

Where Darcy had found an American justice of the peace aboard this vessel in so short a time, he’d never know.

But here they all were, Darcy, Lydia, himself, this drawling American officiant, and two crewmates of the RMS Titanic as witnesses.

The echo of his vows rang in his head as he said them, “for better or for worse, for richer for poorer…” Well, he was richer now by quite a lot.

That thought made him smile as he spoke the solemn words.

Lydia’s eyes as they met his glowed with happiness, and if he was correct, not a little triumph.

No doubt his eyes bore the same expression.

He knew he’d marry eventually and for money.

This little wedding came a bit earlier than he had planned, but it was as good as he could have hoped.

No gorgon of an heiress on his arm, but a sweet, young thing.

No father keeping an eye on his daughter’s fortune, just Darcy.

Darcy, who, he hoped, would soon lose interest. With a wife so young and inexperienced, Wickham didn’t fear that his adventures among the fairer sex need be curtailed in the slightest.

“ I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” A sweet and tender kiss that promised so much more.

“ All right, Wickham. Back on duty. You’ve got to finish your shift.” His fellow waiter, and witness, handed him his white jacket.

Wickham shook himself out of his wedding coat and resumed his duty. The wedding night would have to wait a few more hours.

***

An hour later, as Darcy finally laid his head down on the pillow, he felt so weary as to verge on collapse.

Yet his mind throbbed with the incidents of the day.

At least he had repaired the breach that Wickham had torn asunder in the lives of the Bennets.

Lydia was married to the rogue and, in the innocence of youth, overjoyed at it.

Was it guilt at saddling that young and gullible girl with a husband such as Wickham, or was it joy at snatching back the Bennet family honour?

The Bennets. Tomorrow he’d wire Bingley and let him know all was set to rights.

The soft churning of the engines faded as he slipped into sleep.

Darcy awoke with a start. Something… something felt different.

He flipped on the light, squeezing his eyes shut at the flash.

Then, blinking, sitting up in bed, he glanced over the room.

Nothing… nothing had changed. He was about to lie back down when he noticed the ticking of the clock, and suddenly realized he’d never heard it before.

Setting his feet on the carpet, it came to him.

Vibration.

The vibration of the engines had gone.

His first impulse was to throw his overcoat over his pyjamas, pull on his shoes, and go on deck in disarray. Sense took over, and he dressed and went on deck. As a steward passed him near one of the smoking saloons, Darcy drew his attention. “Why have we stopped?”

“ Dunno, sir, I’m sure. Can’t be much.”

“ I’ll go up to the boat deck and see.”

“ You can, sir, but it is mighty cold up there.”

He wasn’t wrong. On the top deck and open to the night sky, the temperature plummeted.

It was late, and mind-numbingly cold. The first-class quarters, the captain’s bridge, and the steerage quarters were all deserted.

Finally, he peered over the starboard side.

Nothing there but a still and glassy black sea.

Perhaps they had problems with an engine or some such thing.

Not that he knew much about seafaring vessels.

Just to reassure himself, he took the stairway to the deck below where some men were playing cards in one of the salons.

After he enquired of them what they knew of the stoppage, most agreed that they felt a heaving motion some time before, and one claimed to have gone on deck.

“ I saw a great iceberg go by at very close quarters, perhaps it was ninety to a hundred feet high.”

“ Probably just glanced off us,” volunteered another. “The captain will have something to answer for if he’s scraped the paint of the hull.”

A chorus of laughter came from the card players.

Darcy turned to go. He would get no more information from this lot.

“ If you come upon some ice on the deck, I wouldn’t mind a small piece for my whiskey, wot.” A middle-aged card player waved his glass at Darcy. Again, amused laughter. Darcy needed to check the boat deck. There might be more to be learned by now.

Arriving at the top of the staircase, he frowned. A few passengers in various states of dress and undress had wandered out and discovered a large pile of snow that covered a section of the deck. Snowballs flew about to much giggling and guffawing.

“ Lydia, Lydia, come away at once. You’ll catch your death of cold.”

Elizabeth.

What was Elizabeth doing here? It couldn’t be. As if Darcy was in a trance, his footsteps took him to the gambolling crowd.

Dressed in her dressing gown, coat, and slippers, Lydia squealed with delight as snowballs disintegrated in midair and showered her with icy shards.

Elizabeth caught her by the arm and dragged her away from the merrymakers.

Her back to him and thoroughly engaged with restraining her sister, Elizabeth didn’t notice him. His heart caught in his mouth.

“ Good evening, Mrs Wickham, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth snapped her head in his direction quickly and then, just as quickly, back to Lydia.

“ Mrs Wickham?” She still held her sister fast. “Mrs Wickham?” Then she turned back. “Mr. Darcy? What is going on?”

“ Oh, let me go, Lizzy.” Lydia grinned. “I am Mrs Wickham, so ha.” She twisted herself free and stomped her foot defiantly.

Elizabeth looked from one to the other. “What? How long have you been married?”

Lydia tossed her head. “Oh, I don’t know. What time is it?” She pointed at Mr Darcy. “Ask him. He was there.”

Elizabeth rounded on Darcy and a plethora of emotions played across her face. She opened her mouth to address Darcy, then turned on Lydia. “If you are Mrs Wickham, where, in heaven’s name, is your husband?”

“ Oh, as soon as some American magistrate married us, George had to return to duty. The captain was kind enough to give us one of the empty first-class cabins for our honeymoon. He will join me there shortly.” Lydia gave Elizabeth a smirk.

“ Oh, I don’t understand.” Elizabeth turned towards Mr Darcy, again eyeing him. “And you knew?” He did not answer immediately. She shook her head. “If you will forgive us, sir, my sister and I have some matters to discuss. You’ll excuse us.”

“ What? Where are we going? Let go.” Lydia again attempted to extricate herself from Elizabeth’s grasp.

Elizabeth’s parting words drifted as she pulled Lydia by the hand. “If you have a cabin, then take me there and explain yourself.”

Darcy followed mutely. He would rather explain everything to Elizabeth himself than have a garbled account of the day’s proceedings pour out of Lydia.

They made for the stairway, but as they climbed, Darcy seemed not to be able to put his foot right, as if the stairs were twisted or melted. They looked the same but felt odd. The entire evening felt odd.

“ Perhaps I should go with you,” he said as they reached the first-class deck.

“ I don’t believe that will be necessary. I would like to hear from my sister what has been happening behind my back.”

Darcy had intended to make his involvement in Lydia and Wickham’s marriage remain a secret to Elizabeth for one reason and one reason only.

He didn’t want her to look favourably upon him out of gratitude, but to like him, or really, to love him, for himself alone.

His ruminations were cut short as the steward approached them.

“ All passengers on deck with life belts on.”

“ Life belts?” Lydia paled.

“ I am sure it is just a precaution.” Darcy could see no sense of alarm among the other passengers, who were now more numerous and passing them on the deck. “Do you know where yours is?” he inquired of Elizabeth.

“ I don’t believe so.” Her voice quavered slightly. “I thought this ship was unsinkable.”

“ I am sure it is.” He offered a smile. “No one seems alarmed, not even the crew.” He indicated the other passengers.

“ Lizzy, don’t leave me. Where is George?” Lydia began to whimper, and Darcy curbed a desire to tell her to stop acting like a child, which, he realised to his chagrin, was exactly what she was.

“ I won’t leave you.” Elizabeth’s tone came softer than before, and she turned to Darcy. “If you do not have anything else pressing, could I ask you to kindly stay with us until this crisis, or whatever it is, is over?

Darcy gave a slight bow. “I am at your service, of course. But come along to first class. We shall retrieve the life belts from both our cabins and, Mrs Wickham, you can change into something more suitable for the night air.

Lydia looked down at her dressing gown peeking beneath her coat and began to giggle.