Page 4 of To India with Mr. Darcy

A fter a week and a half into their voyage, Elizabeth had quickly grown accustomed to the rhythm of ship life. Mornings passed in idle conversation and reading, afternoons were filled with brisk walks on deck or observing the crew at their work, and evenings often concluded with lively dinners in the dining hall, where passengers gathered to share in whatever company the sea had thrown them together with.

Elizabeth and Jane entered the dining hall with their aunt and uncle to find the room already brimming with the hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware against porcelain.

Mr Bingley, ever genial, spotted them first and stood at once, beaming. “Miss Bennet! Miss Elizabeth! Mr and Mrs Gardiner! Please, will you join us?”

Mr Gardiner, who had spent the better part of the afternoon in business discussions, looked pleased by the invitation. “A very kind offer, Mr Bingley. I trust the day has treated you well?”

“Exceedingly well,” Mr Bingley said as he pulled out a chair for Jane, his attention entirely on her as she murmured her thanks. Elizabeth did not miss the small, pleased smile that touched Jane’s lips as she took her seat.

Mr Darcy, who had remained seated, merely inclined his head as Elizabeth sat opposite him. His expression was as cold and formal as always, though he looked her over for the briefest moment before he returned his attention to his plate.

Elizabeth nearly laughed. She had never known a man so determined to appear unmoved by his surroundings. Nor one quite so unpleasant. She wondered whether he realised just how arrogant he was or whether he was entirely unaware.

As they settled into their meal, conversation flowed easily. Mr Gardiner and Mr Bingley spoke at length about their plans in India, discussing in broad terms the trade arrangements they hoped to secure.

“I should like to see more of the textile markets firsthand,” Mr Bingley was saying. “My father always said that to understand the true value of a thing, one must see its origins.”

Elizabeth, who had been listening with quiet interest, leaned in. “Then you must promise to describe it in great detail when you return,” she said. “I should love to know what an Indian market looks like.”

Mr Bingley’s eyes lit up. “Why, Miss Elizabeth, that is easily done! But I dare say you will see it for yourself, will you not?”

Elizabeth smiled wryly. “I have no doubt that I shall see it. I only doubt that I shall be able to explore it as freely as I wish. I’d dearly love to know what it’s like from your point of view, Mr Bingley.”

Mr Darcy, who had been silent until now, spoke at last. “You do not consider yourself bound by convention, then?”

Elizabeth turned to him, arching a brow. “I consider convention useful only when it serves a purpose, Mr Darcy.”

He held her gaze for a long moment before nodding slightly. “A pragmatic view.”

“An honest one.”

There was something assessing in his expression, something that suggested he was attempting to place her within his carefully ordered understanding of the world. Elizabeth, for her part, refused to be placed anywhere.

It was then that one of the other passengers, a middle-aged woman called Mrs Harcourt, leaned in with great interest.

“My dear Miss Bennet, I have been meaning to ask—you and your sister come from a most respectable family, do you not?”

Elizabeth turned towards the older woman with a polite smile, though she was surprised by the intrusive question. “I should like to think so, Mrs Harcourt.”

The older woman beamed. “Yes, yes, I thought as much. Your uncle mentioned that you reside in Hertfordshire when we were talking this morning. You must have a fine estate there.”

Elizabeth hesitated, glancing at Jane before replying. “Longbourn is our home,” she said carefully. “It has been in our family for generations.”

Mr Darcy, who had been taking a sip of his wine, subtly glanced in her direction at this, his interest seemingly piqued. Elizabeth shouldn’t have been surprised. He seemed the sort of man to concern himself with wealth and estates rather than people and personalities.

Mrs Harcourt clasped her hands together. “How charming! And do you keep many horses? I have always thought that a well-kept stable is a mark of true gentility.”

Elizabeth, who had no intention of telling her that Longbourn’s stables were modest at best, merely smiled. “My father enjoys riding very much.”

It was not a lie, strictly speaking. She glanced at Jane, who suppressed a smile.

Mrs Harcourt seemed quite satisfied with this and turned her attention elsewhere, but Elizabeth did not miss the way Mr Darcy continued to regard her, as though piecing together some private conclusion.

Was he assessing her family’s wealth? The thought was mildly infuriating, though she supposed she should not be surprised. A man as reserved as Mr Darcy likely spent his time calculating the worth of everything he encountered.

It was a relief when the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Mr Gardiner, ever the amiable host, steered the discussion towards England, and soon Mr Bingley was reminiscing about his family’s estate in the north.

“And you, Miss Bennet?” Mr Bingley said, turning back to Jane. “Do you enjoy the countryside, or do you long for London’s society?”

Jane smiled, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, an adorable habit of hers. “I have always loved the countryside best. There is a peace to it that I do not think the city can offer.”

Mr Bingley looked entirely delighted by this answer.

Elizabeth, watching the exchange, hid her smile behind her wine glass.

Mr Darcy, however, was still watching her. She glanced at him momentarily and then back to Jane, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

As the meal wound down to a close, Mrs Gardiner made a quiet remark about returning to the cabin to rest, and Elizabeth took that as her cue to rise as well.

“It has been a most enjoyable evening,” she said. “Mr Bingley, I am certain we shall expect great tales of your business successes in the months to come.”

Mr Bingley laughed. “You are most generous in your confidence, Miss Elizabeth.”

Mr Darcy said nothing. But as Elizabeth excused herself, she had the distinct feeling that he was still watching her as she left the room.

***

The sea stretched into the horizon, an expanse of silver under the glow of the moon. The air was crisp and clean, tinged with salt, and Elizabeth inhaled deeply as she stepped onto the deck. The ship moved steadily through the water, the rhythmic creak of its timbers and the occasional snap of the sails above the only sounds breaking the night’s stillness.

By week two of their voyage, she had grown used to these sounds, the accompaniment to her daily life, and she had taken to these evening walks with great enthusiasm. The days aboard the Belmont were lively—filled with meals, conversations, card games, and the bustling activity of a ship in motion—but at night, when most of the passengers had retired, Elizabeth could claim the deck as her own. There was a kind of freedom in it, in the way the vast ocean surrounded her on all sides, unbroken and untamed. It was as if she were no longer hemmed in, no longer confined to a world with strict rules of behaviour.

She moved towards the railing, her hands curling around the cool wood as she gazed out at the endless horizon. Even in the darkness, the water seemed alive, shifting and moving like some great breathing creature, and it brought her heart alive as well.

“You are quite fearless, Miss Bennet.”

The deep voice startled her, and she turned sharply to find the dour Mr Darcy standing a few feet away. He was partially in shadow, the moonlight casting sharp angles across his features, making him look even more severe than usual.

She held her breath for a moment, biting her bottom lip. There was something secretly thrilling about finding him watching her, as if she were caught doing something she should not. She watched as he stepped out from the dark, the moonlight brightening his face.

“Mr Darcy,” she said, the moment lost as her surprise gave way to amusement—both at his presence and her own reaction to him. “I hardly expected to find you here. I thought you more inclined to seek comfort indoors.”

He regarded her steadily, unblinking and calm. “And I thought you more inclined to proper decorum, yet here you are, walking unchaperoned at night.”

Elizabeth raised a brow. “You mistake me, sir. I delight in decorum, so long as it does not interfere with my enjoyment of the sea. I did not think the normal rules of propriety applied so far from land.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips before vanishing as quickly as it came. She wondered what it would take for him to give her a full, warm smile.

“I have seen you out here before,” he said simply, still watchful, still quiet.

She tilted her head. “Have you? And here I thought I was quite alone. There is something invigorating about the evening air at sea, as I’m sure you must agree.”

Mr Darcy hesitated for a moment, as if uncertain whether to continue. “You walk the deck nearly every night.”

Elizabeth laughed lightly. “You have been spying on me, Mr Darcy?”

His posture stiffened, and he looked away. “Not at all. I merely observed as I, too, took in the night’s refreshing air. And I have noticed that you seem at ease in a way many others are not.”

“And that surprises you?”

Elizabeth’s heart thudded rapidly, as if it was his presence that excited her, not that of the sea. She reminded herself not to become drunk on the clean air and allow herself to let her guard down. At least not with a gentleman such as Mr Darcy.

“Yes,” he admitted after a pause. “Most women would find the ship confining. You do not. I cannot deny that I find it curious.”

She turned back to the sea, her fingers drumming idly against the railing. “I do not find it confining because I choose not to. It is one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. Would it not be dreadful to waste such an experience in constant complaint?”

He regarded her with a steady gaze. “You have an unusual perspective, Miss Bennet, it must be said.”

Elizabeth smirked. “You say that as though it is a flaw.”

He shook his head. “Merely an observation.”

“Another observation? You are very attentive, aren’t you, Mr Darcy?”

He said nothing to her jest. Instead, they stood in silence for a moment, the sound of the waves filling the space between them. To her own surprise, Elizabeth found the silence was not uncomfortable as she leant against the rail, the sea behind her now.

“Tell me, Mr Darcy,” she said at last, “how do you find the voyage thus far? Or do you count the days until you may set foot on solid ground again?”

“I find it tolerable,” he said. She noted his careful tone, how he weighed his words before he spoke them. Did he ever allow himself to be free?

Elizabeth chuckled. “Tolerable! That is a high compliment, indeed.” Did he almost smile at that? She couldn’t be certain in the weak light.

“I suspect you would describe it differently,” he said. “More effervescent, no doubt.”

“Oh, exceedingly so,” she replied with mock solemnity. “I should say it is magnificent—the great expanse of the sea, the untamed wind, the promise of far-off lands. I cannot think of a better adventure.”

Mr Darcy studied her, his curiosity written across his features, and Elizabeth almost laughed. It was as if he’d never met anyone like her before.

“You do not fear the unknown?” he asked after a time.

“No,” she said simply. “Why should I?”

His gaze did not waver. “Most people do.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I am not most people. And besides, I should imagine most people fear what they cannot control. That is a different matter entirely.”

A beat of silence passed before he said, almost to himself, “That is very true.”

Elizabeth glanced at him, wondering at his tone. They had been on the ship for over a fortnight, and in that time, they had shared a number of meals. And if there was one thing she had learned, it was that it was not often Mr Darcy agreed with her. She could not help but wonder if there was something deeper behind his words. Something he didn’t wish to share with her.

She turned her attention back to the sea. “Have you ever travelled before, Mr Darcy?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But never by sea. My business takes me to London often, naturally, and Birmingham, and I have visited Scotland. I have toured the Lake District and parts of Wales. But never beyond England’s shores.”

“You didn’t go on a grand tour as a younger man?” she asked, endlessly curious about this new development. She had thought him a worldly man, but perhaps she had been mistaken.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, made uncomfortable by the question. “The idea never appealed to me,” he admitted. “And there was far too much business to attend to instead.”

Elizabeth watched him carefully for a long moment, taking this in. In the face of a new adventure, he was little moved, unlike herself.

“And yet you are not eager for this journey?” she asked, wanting to get to the crux of the matter. “Do you not look forward to experiencing new things, meeting new people?”

“I do not see travel as an amusement,” he replied. “It is merely a necessity for business.”

“Business, business, business!” Elizabeth giggled, unable to stop herself from teasing him, even though she could see she had embarrassed him. “You take pleasure in very little, do you, Mr Darcy?”

He glanced at her. “On the contrary, I take great pleasure in many things. I simply do not feel the need to declare it at every opportunity.”

Elizabeth laughed outright at that. “How very fortunate, then, that I feel no such restraint.”

Mr Darcy exhaled sharply—was that a laugh? She could not be certain, for the moment passed too quickly.

They fell into another companionable silence, listening to the wind and water. Elizabeth felt as if the entire world had been laid at her feet, that there was so much potential, so much to come. After some time, she said, “I wonder how Mr Bingley is finding the voyage. You seem very different from one another.”

Mr Darcy straightened, tugging on the lapels of his coat, as though he had been expecting the question. “He is well,” he said simply. “He is… well, it seems he is particularly taken with your sister.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I had noticed. It is endearing, don’t you think?”

“He speaks very highly of her.” Mr Darcy came and joined her at the railing, though while she remained leaning against it, he put his hands on the cool metal and looked out at the glittering horizon.

“As well he should!”

Mr Darcy’s brow furrowed as if in question. And Elizabeth wondered if that was why he had sought her out?

“Do you believe her affections are engaged?” he asked, not looking at her.

Elizabeth hesitated before answering. “Jane is not as expressive as some. But I know my sister well, Mr Darcy. She is fond of Mr Bingley.”

He looked unconvinced. “Fondness is not the same as love.”

Elizabeth turned fully to face him. “And do you believe love must declare itself openly to be real? And so soon? We have only been on the ship but a fortnight.”

“No, not so openly,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, his eyes on the gently undulating waves. “But it must be certain.”

Elizabeth studied him for a moment. He spoke carefully, cautiously, as though unwilling to give too much of himself away.

She smiled, deciding not to press him further. “I suspect we shall have ample time to observe them. Four months, at least.”

Mr Darcy inclined his head. “If not five.”

Another silence fell, but this time it felt different. Elizabeth could not recall a time when she had spoken with Mr Darcy for so long, nor one in which he had not left her feeling thoroughly irritated.

She glanced at him once more. He looked thoughtful, his gaze fixed on the sea. For the first time, he did not seem quite so severe.

Perhaps, she thought, this voyage would reveal more than just foreign lands.