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“ Have you seen either of these men? A Mr Wickham, he’s a waiter from the Titanic , or a man called Darcy, Fitzwilliam Darcy? He has dark hair and dark eyes and was in first class.”

Men looked at her hollow-eyed and shook their heads.

Many had wives clinging to them, but some were crew members who had manned the boats.

Lydia wouldn’t leave Elizabeth’s side and held her hand like a small child afraid of losing her mother.

Even when she had to visit the water closet, Lydia would stand outside the door and insist on Elizabeth talking to her.

“ How long do you think it will take until we get to New York, Lizzy? Do you think George might have been saved?” Whenever she mentioned Wickham, her voice would waver and break. There was nothing Elizabeth could do. Her voice was wavering as well.

Grateful that she was dressed for the cold weather, she pulled up the collar of her woollen coat and straightened the turban-like hat that had kept her warm during the long night on the lifeboat.

She was grateful that morning for things that never entered her mind before.

A warm coat, feet that were not frozen, a velvet hat that kept out the wind.

Seeing another group of people huddled on deck, she stopped and asked again.

“ I am looking for a man named Darcy. He is a first-class passenger—”

Before she could finish, a man close by in another group called out to her. His coat was tattered and a woman she assumed was his wife clung to his hand as he stood. She cradled an infant asleep in her arms.

Many people sat around him on the deck, so he made no move to climb over them, but stood gazing at her. When he did not speak further, she spoke to him. “Have you seen Mr Darcy? Does he live?” She clutched her mouth and tried to regain her composure.

“ Was it a man called Fitzwilliam Darcy?” When she nodded, the tears began to course down his cheeks. He made no move to wipe them away but blinked at her and swallowed hard a few times as if the words were choking him. She didn’t move, nor encourage him, for she didn’t want to hear his words.

Finally, he managed to regain his composure.

“The crew of the lifeboat had one more place. They offered it to this fine gentleman, Mr Darcy. My wife and baby were already in the boat. He gave me his place. He saved me for them.” At that, he could no longer speak but covered his face while his wife squeezed his free hand.

“ Were there other boats? Perhaps he got another boat?” Elizabeth knew the answer to her question before these poor people had a chance to utter it, but she forced herself to listen, nonetheless. She had to know.

This time, his wife spoke. “It was one of the last boats, a collapsible they said. Your Mr Darcy saved my family. We will never forget him.”

Elizabeth stood motionless for a moment, staring at the three of them.

The poor man was beside himself with grief.

She had to say something. “Thank you for telling me.” She turned to go, but then turned back to look at the young man who had been spared by Darcy.

“Don’t feel guilty that he gave his life for yours.

I believe if it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else. That was the sort of man he was.”

The young man nodded, closed his eyes, and sat down next to his wife once again, putting his arm protectively around her.

“ Come along, Lizzy.” Lydia stood by her side. “Let’s find a place to sit and rest.” She took Lizzy by the hand and found a deck chair. Lizzy sat down as Lydia knelt beside her. Neither of them spoke.

A deckhand looked their way, then came over and handed them a pair of blankets to help ward off the frigid wind coming off the sea.

All Lizzy could think about was Darcy. She refused a man who gave his life for another… someone he didn’t even know. There were so many times that she could have mended the breach between them but didn’t. Now, it was too late.

She looked down at Lydia, who rested her head on Elizabeth’s knee, and laid her hand on her head. So much loss… for both of them. She laid her head back on the canvas and wrapped the blanket tightly around her. The world seemed grey and lifeless. All hope was lost.

“ Lydia?”

Lydia suddenly jerked away as Lizzy opened her eyes.

“ George, Georgie. Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were drowned. Oh, Georgie.” Lydia ran and threw her arms around Wickham.

Lizzy gaped open-mouthed at Wickham. How could he have survived?

He pulled a blanket around his shoulders, hair dishevelled, waiter’s coat crushed and wrinkled, linen trousers rumpled below the knee.

Elizabeth looked at his unshaven face and felt weighted down with bags of sand. She couldn’t move from her seat.

“ Goerge, she’s just found out that Mr Darcy has been lost,” whispered Lydia.

Wickham said nothing, but after he disentangled himself from Lydia, he knelt beside Lizzy.

Was it Elizabeth’s imagination or did he look genuinely distressed at the news?

Wickham made his best rendition of a sympathetic expression. “Oh, bad luck. Bad news. So much bad news on this ship this morning.” He tut-tutted and shook his head.

“ I hear congratulations are in order.” Lizzy managed to say something.

He cocked a brow and managed a strained smile. “Oh, thank you so much. Yes, we were married last night.”

“ I thought you were to be married in New York.” It felt her words were spoken through fog.

“ Ah, yes… that was the original plan, but then we thought why wait?”

“ Yes, why wait?” Lydia clung to Wickham’s arm and chirped cheerfully. “Won’t Mama and Papa be surprised?”

Elizabeth shot her a look, but it seemed to bounce off into the morning air. “I believe that they will be waiting to hear if we survived. No doubt, the news of the sinking will reach England before we land in New York.”

Lydia’s smile faded. “I didn’t think of that.

” She looked down at the deck for a moment, then her head popped up again.

“No matter. They will know soon enough that we are alive and that I am Mrs George Wickham.” Lydia made a little pout.

“Do you think you will be all right for a while, Lizzy? I’d like to take a walk with… my husband.” She was bursting with joy.

Elizabeth couldn’t wait for her to leave.

“ Yes, please do. Go, but try to be discreet. There are so many in pain on this vessel.” Lydia nodded solemnly, but then wrapped her hand around her husband’s arm and, smiling ear to ear, trotted off with him.

All Elizabeth wanted at that moment was to be alone with her grief, to weep, to cry out at the unfairness of life, but the ship was overcrowded and many of her fellow passengers were on deck with her.

She sat back and looked out over the cloudless sky, thinking of all she had lost.