Chapter 6
“It is so good to see land!” Helena Kendall commented, coming up beside Elizabeth at the railing. She was accompanied by her husband, Mr. Kendall, who also wore an expression of awed delight.
“It is,” Elizabeth vowed. “It has been a good voyage in many ways but oh, to see land again. And such a land! It is so green!”
“And mountainous!” Helena agreed. “Somehow I expected it to be flatter.”
“I believe there are very low-lying Caribbean Islands,” commented Mr. Kendall. “In any case, the topography is not only beautiful but helpful in times of flooding.”
“Is there flooding?” Elizabeth asked in surprise. “Does the ocean rise?”
“No, but there are very strong storms at times. Do not be alarmed, the church and parsonage are well away from the water.”
“I hope not too far, sir. I wish to enjoy the ocean, after all.”
Mr. Kendall chuckled, “I assure you, Miss Bennet, that there will be plenty of opportunities to enjoy the warm waters of St. Croix.”
The threesome lapsed into a companionable silence and watched as the island grew ever closer. They could hear a sailor calling out the soundings as the land crept nearer and the bay grew shallow.
Elizabeth’s eyes, ears, even her nose were so busy that she was disinclined for speech.
Around her flew a variety of seabirds, all of them graceful, none of them familiar.
They cried out with otherworldly voices and occasionally dove for the ocean, presumably attempting to capture and eat small sea life.
Her nose, which had grown accustomed to the smells of pitch and tar on board ship, now picked up the subtle nuances of approaching tropical greenery. It was warm and moist, soft and fragrant. It was like nothing she had ever known.
“I am sorry, Husband, Elizabeth, I must go below deck. I am feeling quite ill in this hot sun.”
“I will accompany you, my dear,” Mr. Kendall said, putting a gentle arm around his pallid wife. “You will be well here, Miss Bennet?”
“Of course, sir. Thank you,” the girl replied, casting a worried glance at Helena as the couple walked away.
Elizabeth had always been a sturdy woman, impervious to both cold and heat, though even she was somewhat overheated by the tropical sun.
Helena, several months along in her pregnancy, had struggled far more with discomfort and sickness during the voyage.
Elizabeth could only hope that once they had achieved solid land, Mrs. Kendall would feel substantially better.
/
“You had best go below, Mr. Darcy,” Captain Drayson, master of the merchant ship Riley ordered, his tone courteous but commanding. “The sea grows rough.”
Fitzwilliam Darcy sighed but nodded obediently, aware that during even a mild storm, a landsman could only be in the way.
He quickly made his way to his cabin and sat down on his bunk.
He had left the door open, allowing enough light to make its way into his small cabin to see the low-beamed ceiling and the rough hewn boards of the flooring.
He chuckled grimly to himself. He had been born into wealth and privilege, and had never experienced anything but the best of lodgings, food and drink.
Yet here he was, two weeks into an ocean voyage, installed in a small and rather noisome cabin beneath the water line.
The food was basic, the rum barely palatable and the water downright unpleasant.
And for what? Why had he left England? For love?
Only a year ago, he would have scoffed at the very idea.
Yet for all the discomfort, for all the pain in leaving Georgiana behind, he felt in his soul that this was the correct path for him to take.
As Georgie had pointed out, she was not alone; she had Colonel Fitzwilliam keeping her company along with her paid companion, Mrs. Annesley.
The entire Matlock clan, arrayed in all its power and prestige, was prepared to champion and care for Miss Darcy of Pemberley.
Whereas Miss Bennet — Elizabeth — she was alone.
She had fled England to avoid a dangerous man, and while Darcy had no doubt of his love’s courage, she could only be grieving the loss of father, home and family.
Even if she refused him again, even if she spurned his offer of marriage again, he could bring her comfort.
In his luggage he carried letters from her eldest sister, now Mrs. Bingley, and her beloved Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.
He would not importune her, but he had no doubt he could bring her some solace through his messages and his assurances of his power to protect her back in England.
No, he would turn his face ahead and look boldly to the future. He would pray for a quick passage to St. Croix where Elizabeth might even now be living in a foreign land.
/
“Why does the land seem to be moving?” Elizabeth asked indignantly, wobbling slightly as she took a few cautious steps towards the carriage awaiting them.
Captain Jamison, who had taken a few minutes of his time to help them off the ship and to the carriage, chuckled at this even as he offered her a welcome arm.
“You found your sea legs very quickly on the voyage here, Miss Bennet,” he explained, “and now your person is accustomed to the movement of the ship and is protesting the lack of motion on land.”
“That does not seem entirely fair!” Elizabeth laughed as they reached the carriage. Gratefully, she climbed inside and settled herself on the seat with a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Captain.”
“You are most welcome,” Jamison replied heartily.
In truth, he had been quite taken with this lovely young lady who had faced the hardships of life on board a packet ship with courage and good humor.
It was a sad reality of his chosen profession that he had few opportunities to enjoy pleasant female company.
He had to save substantially more before he was ready to marry and in any case, it was unlikely a daughter of the gentry, even a poor one, would accept him.
“Mr. Kendall, Mrs. Kendall,” he continued with a smile. “I wish you well on St. Croix. I will arrange to have your belongings transported to the parsonage as we agreed.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Mr. Kendall replied.
A moment later, the carriage — a rather old and creaky one — jolted into motion.
Elizabeth watched Helena for a concerned moment; the parson’s wife looked very unwell.
Elizabeth watched with pleasure as Mr. Kendall placed a careful arm around his wife’s form; the parson was a gentle and kindly man who was extremely attentive to Helena’s needs.
It was a moving sight, and Elizabeth was aware of something that might have been envy.
Elizabeth turned her attention back to the street outside and was quickly engrossed with the sights, sounds and smells.
She knew that Christiansted was not a large town; indeed it was not much bigger than Meryton.
But while the number of people was perhaps typical of a market day in Meryton, the people themselves were very different.
The clothing was remarkable to a young lady from Hertfordshire given that many people showed more leg and arm than was considered proper.
Given the intense heat of the island, that was doubtless sensible.
Of even more interest was the skin color of most of the people walking the streets.
She knew, of course, that in warmer climes, people often had darker skin.
The men and women walking the roads of Christiansted had a range of skin colors from very dark to pale, and she found it wonderful and fascinating.
Elizabeth leaned back in her carriage and took a deep and cleansing breath.
She had always been a courageous woman with a fascination with new experiences.
For better or for worse, she was now living across the sea in a totally foreign place.
She prayed that God would help her face the future with courage and enthusiasm.