CHAPTER 2
The morning of their departure arrived sooner than Elizabeth had expected.
Despite the many hours she had spent considering the journey, imagining the distant shores of the Isle of Man, and wondering what awaited her there, she found herself unprepared for the moment when the carriage finally departed from Longbourn.
Though Mr. Bennet had thoughtfully arranged for a manservant and Sally, their maid, to escort her to the docks, Elizabeth felt the weight of the journey ahead more keenly with each passing mile.
It was not fear, exactly, but a curious mixture of uncertainty and exhilaration.
The Isle of Man remained a distant and unfamiliar place, known to her only through Anne's descriptions and her own limited recollections, yet the very unfamiliarity of it stirred her imagination.
Upon arriving at the harbor, however, Elizabeth's attention shifted from the journey ahead to the activity surrounding them.
The docks were alive with movement, and she watched as sailors called instructions, passengers arranged luggage, and families exchanging final farewells.
Upon finding her vessel, Elizabeth felt that the boat itself appeared both impressive and intimidating.
Elizabeth had only just begun to observe the other passengers when an unexpected figure caught her attention. For a moment, she wondered whether her eyes had deceived her. “Mr. Darcy?” she said to herself, feeling every bit alarmed at his presence.
She stopped in the midst of the foot traffic, utterly astonished.
Of all the people she had imagined encountering on this journey, he was the one person whose presence had never entered her thoughts.
The possibility seemed too improbable, too extraordinary to be considered, and yet there he stood before her, calm, composed, and entirely at ease, engaged in conversation with another gentleman.
What could he possibly be doing here? Elizabeth felt her heart palpitate.
As she looked onward, Elizabeth thought that Mr. Darcy possessed the same air of quiet confidence and reserve she had almost always observed in him.
His posture was assured, his expression carefully composed, and his manner marked by the restrained civility that had long been his habit.
He was as tall and smartly dressed as ever; however, Elizabeth could not help instantly recalling that there had been one occasion when that careful composure had failed him, when pride and wounded feeling had broken through the restraint he so carefully maintained.
She remembered the severity of his anger, the intensity of his words, and the startling vulnerability that had appeared beneath the gentleman's practiced reserve.
It was that memory, more than anything else, that unsettled her. For, she had come to know that there was far more to him than she had once believed, and seeing him again, unexpectedly, in such a distant place, awakened feelings and questions she had thought long settled.
As though sensing that he was being observed, Mr. Darcy unconsciously turned in Elizabeth's direction. For one brief moment, the noise and movement of the harbor seemed to distract him, that is until their eyes met.
He looked again in her direction, in what Elizabeth believed was disbelief. And this time, stared at her with what looked like widening eyes.
Elizabeth immediately lowered her eyes, feeling a scarlet blush rise from her neck to her cheeks.
She felt mortified. No, there is no mistaking the recognition in his expression, she thought, he had been surprised to see her standing there, though it was quickly tempered by the composure he had always been so skilled at maintaining.
Good lord, it’s Elizabeth! Darcy had almost shouted out the whole of his thoughts. He had been absolutely stunned, neigh, shocked to see the woman who had soundly rejected him months prior. The woman he could not stop thinking of; the woman who had broken his heart, Elizabeth Bennet.
He thought she looked like a nymph among the knotty crew of sailors and passengers moving around her, as her feet lay planted in the middle of the thoroughfare.
Her presence invoking such a wholehearted shock that he had altogether forgotten that he had been speaking with a former acquaintance from Oxford.
Mr. Darcy's gaze remained on Elizabeth only a moment longer before he quickly offered her a bow, and returned to his speaking companion.
Elizabeth looked up briefly to catch his formal civility, and she returned the gesture with equal restraint, suddenly aware of the sound of the sea smashing against the harbor wall.
How oddly vexing, she thought, to encounter the one man I had never expected in a place so entirely unknown.
Only months earlier, she had believed she understood Mr. Darcy.
She had believed his pride and reserve revealed the whole of his character.
Yet time, reflection, and a painful reconsideration of her own judgments had taught her otherwise.
Now, standing before him again, she found herself confronted not with the man she had once so readily criticized, but with someone far more complicated.
A man who had poured out his heart to her, and the very same that she had accidentally rejected.
Adding, for clarity, that he was quite simply the last man on earth whom she could see herself ever marrying.
For his part, Mr. Darcy seemed equally ready for an apocalypse.
He had not expected to see Elizabeth, and certainly not here, at a port, before he set sail to the Isle of Man.
Despite his better judgment, he could not deny his growing curiosity to know why she was there.
Could she have married a sailor? No, preposterous.
Though, perhaps not? His thoughts flew to the worst possible situation, and he was determined then to speak to her to learn the truth.
He walked towards Elizabeth, looking at her intently and, with each step, he found memories stirring that he had tried to bury.
Almost upon her heels and within ear shot, he stopped and offered her a curt nod, “Miss Bennet, I confess to being surprised at seeing you here.
I hope you and your family are well," he said, offering her yet another slight bow.
"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied with a curtsy, “I thank you, I am well and so is my family. I confess to being surprised to see you as well.”
This exchange, though perfectly civil, carried the careful restraint of two people uncertain of their place with one another. Neither wished to appear unfriendly, yet neither was willing to risk the vulnerability of extending more than courtesy required.
“I am for the Isle of Man. What of you?” He paused a moment before adding rather slyly, “Are you here to meet someone?”
Around them, the harbor continued its lively activity. Sailors called instructions, passengers hurried between the docks and the vessel, and porters carried luggage aboard. Yet, the noise was all but cut out from the conversation between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth.
"It appears we are both bound for the Isle of Man," Elizabeth observed. She had quickly deduced that Mr. Darcy had also been invited by his cousin to visit the island for matters not yet clear to Elizabeth.
"You for the Isle of Man?" Mr. Darcy looked at her perplexed. "I had not expected to find you among the passengers."
Elizabeth could not fault him for being surprised at Anne’s invitation, but she assured herself that he was likely not privy to her growing relationship with Anne.
Before she could respond, a sailor announced that passengers should begin boarding.
The interruption relieved them both of the necessity of extending a conversation, as both felt the acute embarrassment of their first conversation after the Kent disaster, a term Elizabeth so coined it to herself.
Her maid offered Elizabeth a watery farewell, and she was seen off by her father’s staff. Once aboard, Elizabeth soon realized the arrangement of the boat offered little opportunity for complete avoidance. She saw Mr. Darcy in the shared passage, and he saw her, which required a degree of civility.
They were not strangers, yet neither could pretend they were comfortable acquaintances.
***
Mr. Darcy’s first conversation with Elizabeth aboard the vessel came shortly after departure, when the initial activity of boarding had subsided and the passengers had settled into their seating arrangements.
Elizabeth had taken a seat in the common cabin, where several travelers had gathered to escape the wind coming across the deck.
The room was modest but comfortable, furnished with benches and small tables arranged for the convenience of passengers during the crossing.
The movement of the vessel beneath her feet was unfamiliar, and she found herself occasionally distracted by the changing sensation of the sea.
He entered the cabin some time later and, after a single sweep of the room, immediately saw Elizabeth seated alone near one of the windows.
His eyes lingered upon her only a moment before he began making his way in her direction.
Every instinct drew him nearer. For propriety sake, he took a seat near Elizabeth, leaving an empty seat between them to ensure that no observer could deem his attentions improper.
The movement caught Elizabeth's notice, and she met his gaze only briefly before inclining her head in silent acknowledgment. He thought he detected the faintest lift of her brows and could not help wondering what impression his approach had made upon her. She thinks I’m a bother, how could she not.
His mind, ever inclined to judge himself more harshly where she was concerned, immediately concluded that she must resent the intrusion.
After all that had passed between us at Hunsford, she could scarcely welcome my company.
Goodness, what am I to do with you, Elizabeth?
He thought to himself. The thought was enough to make him question whether he ought to have chosen another seat altogether, yet to remove himself now would only draw greater attention, and he could not bear that.
For several minutes, neither spoke. The silence was awkward, or so Elizabeth thought.
Elizabeth felt it was the quiet of two people who had once understood remarkably little of one another, but now knew enough to make every word feel charged.
Around them the steady creak of the vessel, the murmur of distant conversation, and the rhythmic crash of the sea against the hull filled the space, and yet, among the cacophony, Elizabeth Mr. Darcy's silence was louder than it all.
Eventually, as the vessel shifted slightly with the waves and Elizabeth adjusted her position.
Mr. Darcy broke the silence, "I hope you have found the crossing agreeable thus far.
" He berated himself instantly for thinking of such a muddlebrained statement.
His cousin, Richard, would have hounded him for weeks had he heard what Darcy said.
They had only just cast off, surely the lady had not enough time to yet form an opinion.
Elizabeth replied with a spark of joy, "It has been far less alarming than I imagined. Though I confess, I have not had much experience with voyages of this nature."
He was quick to respond, "I am glad to hear it. In my own experience, the first few hours of any journey upon the sea require some adjustment. The motion is unlike anything one encounters on land, and even the most confident traveler must allow himself time to become accustomed to it."
"Have you?" Elizabeth asked, genuinely surprised. "Then perhaps I have been too quick to imagine your life as one confined entirely to England."
A small smile touched his expression. "I fear I am guilty of enjoying more variety than you may have supposed. Though I cannot claim to be a sailor, I have crossed the sea on several occasions."
Before she could respond, the vessel shifted beneath them, drawing the attention of several passengers nearby. Mr. Darcy briefly looked toward the movement of several sailors before returning his attention to her.
"My first crossing was many years ago," he continued, perhaps sensing the need to ease the conversation back toward safer ground. "I was younger and had traveled to France with my father.”
"France?" Elizabeth repeated, her curiosity immediately awakened. "Then you have traveled quite farther than the Isle of Man."
"Yes, my father believed that travel, when undertaken with purpose, was an important part of education. He thought one could learn much from observing how other nations lived, governed, and conducted themselves."
"I imagine France must have appeared very different from England, and certainly to one so young," she reflected thoughtfully.
"It did," Mr. Darcy answered. "The language, the customs, even the manner in which people carried themselves were different, and noticed by me, even though I was only in my eighth year.”
Elizabeth smiled, trying to imagine the proud and reserved Mr. Darcy as a young boy traveling by sea for the first time with his father.
"And did you enjoy it?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow.
He loved how she wore that expression. It was one he had come to know quite often, her inquisitive nature unable to help itself by asking more than he let on.
"At the time, I believed I did not," he admitted. "I was young, and I found many things unfamiliar. I realize now that I preferred what I knew and was impatient with what I did not understand."
Elizabeth looked at him with quiet amusement. "A surprising confession from you, Mr. Darcy."
"Is it? he asked genuinely, and she smiled teasingly in return, a glint present in her eyes.
He knew she was teasing, as was her like.
Thus, he continued, a little more seriously, “I have since learned that unfamiliar does not mean inferior.
Often, the things we are quickest to judge are those we have taken the least time to understand. "
The words lingered between them, and Elizabeth wondered whether he spoke only of travel, or whether he referred to lessons learned in matters closer to home.
Mr. Darcy knew he had offered Elizabeth a double sided response, and he hoped she had understood his meaning. He had tried to tell her that he had judged her unfairly, and he would not make the same mistake again.
Whether she understood his meaning, he could not tell, as Elizabeth offered a small smile but did not press him further.
The conversation had reached a natural pause, and neither seemed inclined to disturb it.
As the vessel continued across the water, they turned their attention toward the sea beyond them.