Beginning , Section II, Section III, Next Section

Chapter 9

Posted on Sunday, 25 April 2004

In the cabin next door, husband and wife lay entwined, murmuring softly to one another. His hand caressed the small of her back, sometimes running up and down the length of her spine, in loving spirals. His chin rested comfortably on her head, which, as always, had found its favored spot on his chest. They had been drifting in and out of sleep for some fifteen or twenty minutes and were now glorying in the quiet solitude that had not been theirs for some time.

“And are you certain that Edward isn’t going to come toddling through that door at any moment and stand at the foot of the bed, demanding to be picked up?” teased Elizabeth.

“Completely certain, my love,” was his reply.

“How can you be so?” she asked, lovingly stroking his shoulder.

“For the simple reason that I have not yet taught him how to swim, and have threatened all the captains in Portsmouth with murder should they lend him a boat.”

Elizabeth laughed heartily, delighted with her husband’s ability to enjoy the ridiculous. She kissed his chest, sighed and closed her eyes once more. “Fitzwilliam,” she now said more seriously, “I need to come back to our discussion of yesterday. I do not wish to argue or upset you in any way, but I must say this. Please allow me to do so.”

“Of course, Elizabeth.”

“It occurred to me that in the five years that we have been married, you and I have been able to talk about our differences of opinion and have almost always come to some kind of understanding; is that not true?”

“Yes, my love, it is. We have rarely found an area of disagreement that we could not compromise on,” he replied.

“In fact, I can only think of three instances where we simply could not come to that understanding,” said Elizabeth.

“Hmmmmm, you are right, my love,” murmured Darcy.

“And do you remember how each of these disagreements ended?” she asked.

Darcy pulled himself up on one elbow to look into her eyes. “Yes, I most certainly do,” he said tenderly. “…with your bowing to my wishes. That is not something a husband soon forgets,” he said, reaching over to kiss her brow.

“Then believe me when I say that I shall never go against your wishes when it comes to matters of my health and safety if you allow us to discuss the matter rationally first. Trust me to know my own strength and level of endurance, I beg you! Do you imagine, for a moment, that I could be careless about the welfare of our children or our need for one another? All I ask is that you talk to me about your fears….and not simply order me to bed, or forbid me to do one thing or another.”

It took him some time to answer. “Elizabeth, I know that what you are saying makes perfect sense and I promise to try my very best to be reasonable and open to your wishes. I will try – that is all I can do.”

“It is all that I ask.”

“I love you so, Elizabeth,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her hair and breathing in its wonderful scent.

The sun had now risen sufficiently to shed its rays through the small window and gently make Georgiana aware of the new day. Her cheek rested on the letter she still clasped in her hand, and as she moved, the feel of it startled her awake. She brought it into focus before her eyes and kissed it. No, it had not been a dream. Horatio loved her.

It was still rather early - only half past six, and she knew that breakfast had been called for eight o’clock. Well, she would certainly need more time getting ready this morning. She wanted her hair done just so, and she had been advised to be very liberal with her creams to prevent any exposed skin from drying in the wind and sun. But in truth, she had to make a start, for she couldn’t wait to see him! Perhaps he was already on deck and they would meet if she went up for some fresh air before breakfast. Yes! That was exactly what she would do. No one could fault her for wanting to enjoy the early morning breezes on such a beautiful day!

As she strolled about the deck, she received the polite and cheerful attentions of the crewmembers already busy at their tasks. They’d bow or tip their hats and wish her a good morning, letting her know with their grins and glances that they appreciated having a pretty lady on board. She blushed as she passed them, thinking that perhaps it was not proper for her to be there alone. But was that not precisely why she had come? She wanted so desperately to see Horatio before they all sat down to breakfast together. How could she show him how she felt with the others in such close proximity? Her eyes searched the rigging, but he was nowhere to be seen! She had made her way around the deck twice and still she did not see him. Then, shielding her eyes from the rising sun, she chanced to look up the main mast. There he was, working a hundred of feet above her! Her hand rose involuntarily in greeting. Embarrassed, she lowered it and went to the rail.

Not since his first weeks as a midshipman had he gotten lightheaded working aloft, but seeing her there had caused his head to spin and he had to steady himself for a moment or two before he could easily climb down. From that height, he could neither see her eyes, nor the expression on her face, but the fact that she was there, so early and alone, told him everything.

He took the last eight feet in a leap and landed just a short distance from where she stood. Raising his hand to tip his hat, which he suddenly realized was not on his head, he quickly ran his fingers through his windblown hair in embarrassment. “Good morning, Miss Darcy. It is a beautiful morning; is it not?” he managed to say, the slight upturn of his lips only hinting at the joy that the sparkle in his eyes could not conceal.

She had felt so bold earlier, in the privacy of her room, but now, with him actually standing before her she became quite shy, lowered her eyes from his gaze and said, “Yes, it is the most beautiful of mornings, Mr. H.”

“I hope you slept well your first night at sea. You must have been exhausted from the stress of the day. I was much concerned for you when you retired.”

“Oh,” she said, finally finding her courage, “By the time I closed my eyes, I had every reason to feel much comforted and slept extremely well.” She looked at him meaningfully, her eyes now aglow and her shy, sweet smile leaving him with no doubt as to her feelings for him.”

His pulse quickened and his hands, which he had clasped behind him, ached to reach out for her. How would he manage to rein in his feelings for the rest of their journey, knowing she returned his love? He gave her a smile, so joyous, so grateful and appreciative of her response, that no words could have matched its significance.

“Tell me Mr. H.,” she continued, searching for something to say after some time, “Do the timbers of all ships creak in such perfect rhythm as those of the Regalia?”

“I’m afraid so, Miss Darcy. But I sincerely hope that they did not disturb your sleep. Actually, when one is confident of the worthiness of one’s vessel, those creaks and groans become quite reassuring - even soothing, I’d say.”

“I heard them as a lullaby, Sir, as I had both confidence in the worthiness of my vessel and the exceptional abilities of the crew,” she replied, grinning broadly at her obviously transparent remark.

“I am sure that the captain will be honored to know that you hold him in such high esteem,” he teased.

“The captain will what?” came Frederick Wentworth’s booming voice as he came upon them. They each instinctively took a step back, trying to look as unaffected by his sudden presence and as comfortable with their own conversation as possible.

“Good morning, Captain Wentworth,” said Georgiana, curtsying. “I am pleased that you ordered such fine weather for our journey. I could not wait to get out of bed and come up to enjoy this wondrous prospect. It seems that the entire world consists of only sea and sky!”

“Indeed it does, Miss Darcy, and when the weather is fair and the seas are calm, it makes for an almost perfect world. I am glad to be of service, but I cannot guarantee that we shall receive all that I ordered, and hope that you will not hold me responsible if we do not.”

“I shall not, Sir,” she giggled.

“Horatio, have those repairs been completed?” asked Wentworth, knowing full well that they had not.

“No, Sir. I shall get right to it. Please excuse me, Miss Darcy. I hope you enjoy your breakfast.” He gave her a quick bow and warm smile, and returned to his duties.

The captain offered Georgiana his arm and suggested that they start down to join the others. “I hope this fine salty air has given you a good appetite.”

She smiled at him and nodded, her mind more occupied with those attending breakfast than the meal itself. She knew she should not ask, but she could not help herself. “Is Mr. H. not joining us for breakfast this morning?”

“Oh, you’d have to get up rather early to breakfast with Horatio, my dear. He has been out here since five, at least,” he said as he led her through the hatchway.

She blushed with embarrassment. She would have to learn to hold her tongue.

Fitzwilliam had been eager to try his hand at deep sea fishing, and Frederick had consented, providing that he be willing to have himself strapped to the fore chain, for the size and weight of many of these creatures could easily pull a man to his death. The ladies, after having circled the ship several times for exercise after breakfast, had retrieved their books and needlework, and had settled themselves comfortably on the leeward side of the ship, eager for conversation. They spoke of the places they were hoping to visit in Copenhagen – the museum, the ballet, the castles, the gardens and small villages surrounding it. Each had a list of people for whom it was imperative that they bring home a gift, and therefore a plan was adopted to leave the gentlemen at their leisure on some mornings and visit the shops unencumbered.

“How grateful Frederick will be not to have to feign enjoyment in that activity,” laughed Anne. “Yes,” responded Elizabeth, with a sly grin, “and it will also allow the gentlemen the privacy necessary to make their own purchases.”

“Are you not setting yourself up for disappointment, Elizabeth,” asked Anne, a bit shocked at her friend’s candid remark. “Frederick is a most generous man, but he does not always think of these things on his own.”

“Well, he will be reminded and greatly encouraged, by my brother, Mrs. Wen …Anne, for Fitzwilliam cannot pass a shop without searching out an item that is particularly unique and beautiful for Elizabeth. And I am sure that he will want her to have an especially lovely remembrance of this trip,” said Georgiana.

At a lull in the conversation, Georgiana felt that it would now not be rude to open her book and return to the wonderful novel she had been enjoying. As she slid her red leather bookmark to the other side of the page, she skimmed the prior one to find her place and was puzzled not to recognize the content of any of the paragraphs. Had her book fallen and her place been lost? She shrugged her shoulders. Ah well, she would find it. Unsure of whether she had read this section earlier, she began to read.

“Lo, these many weeks I have yearned to see your precious face……” Her own colored. “Could it be,” she thought as she continued to read the hero’s loving speech to his lady, “that Horatio is speaking to me through this book?” She could not be sure, for it might be a coincidence that the bookmark had been replaced on this page, but…… She giggled to herself as she searched for a paragraph she remembered reading a few days earlier that she had thought particularly touching and beautiful, concerning the female character’s daydreams of her beloved. Horatio’s own precious letter came to mind. “…unless we find some creative way to communicate….” Yes, she was almost certain! She placed her bookmark on that page, closed her book and her eyes and allowed the sun to warm her face. She’d be sure to leave her book and parasol on her chaise when they later went below to wash for lunch.

The conversation at lunch had at first centered around Fitzwilliam’s battles with the various fish he had caught. He was endearing in his youthful exhilaration. Elizabeth chuckled to herself, at the sight of her little William, in the body of his father, as he spoke with overflowing enthusiasm. Georgiana saw it too, and leaning discretely towards her sister, whispered, “Like father like son? Or is it the other way around?” Elizabeth hid her mirth behind her napkin.

“Well, cook says he shall prepare the sea bass for tonight and I dare say that we shall never feast on a fresher fish…well, not a salt water one, at least,” said Fitzwilliam as he looked at the twinkling, laughing eyes before him. “Ah. I see,” he said good naturedly, “my excitement is a source of some amusement.” His wife and sister broke out in uncontrolled laughter, their eyes tearing.

“Sadly, the ladies never seem to have much understanding or appreciation for true sport,’ said Horatio, coming to Darcy’s defense, “Though they usually are most willing to reap its benefits.” He shot Georgiana a slightly reprimanding glance. The last thing he wanted was to turn Darcy’s bright and easy mood now that so much was at stake. But his apprehension was soon dismissed as Darcy looked lovingly at his wife and asked to be allowed to join in the joke.

“It is just that you looked so much like William just now! I pictured him running toward me with that puppy on the lawn, and your faces - the expressions on them, were identical. I can now clearly see how handsome our son will one day be,” she said, lowering her lashes with an impish grin.

“Do not think that you can cover your impudence with such flattery, Madam,” said Darcy, hardly being able to maintain the mock anger in his voice. The entire table then broke out in hilarious laughter and after watching them struggle to collect themselves, he said, “Very well, you have all had your fun on my behalf, and I do admit that I was a bit over zealous. But the fact remains that it was great sport and I enjoyed myself exceedingly. I shall remind you all of that tonight, when you are savoring the fruit of my hard won battle.

“To our victorious fisherman,” shouted Frederick, lifting his glass. They all joined in enthusiastically.

“Oh, to be part of this wonderful family!” thought Horatio.

While the mothers-to-be returned to their cabins after lunch for a rest, Georgiana returned to her book in great anticipation of what she would find. It was all she could do to sit down calmly and pick up the volume in a dignified manner. The color in her cheeks rose to her temples as she read Horatio’s next selection, and she looked around her self-consciously, as if the beating of her heart were loud enough for everyone to hear. But oh, how she loved this game! She immediately set to work to find her response.

And so it went for the next two days. Their days were filled with knowing glances and meaningful looks, pretty speeches sprinkled with inferences and phrases of double meaning. They searched for moments to be alone, thought constantly of little schemes and games that could bring them together and managed once or twice to meet unseen in some hidden area of the ship to hold hands and caress each others faces. Horatio would not kiss her. That would have to wait until he could linger on those lips….. He was not a schoolboy anxious for a quick peck behind the barn, after all! He laughed to himself as he thought it. Well, perhaps he was.

On the afternoon of the third day, when Elizabeth and Anne were again below and she had chosen to rest in her chaise on deck, Horatio suddenly came upon her with a glint in his eye and an outstretched hand. “Come quickly! Before they leave!”

He pulled her to the port side of the bow where he had placed a crate at the rail. “Now trust me,” he said, lifting her onto it. “Bend way over the rail and look at the water by the side of the keel.” He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other across her chest to support the opposite shoulder. There was no way he would let her slip through his fingers – ever.

Without a second’s hesitation, she did as she was told and was rewarded by a sight she could not have dreamt of ever seeing. There, leaping and playing on the waves created by the ship, was a school of porpoises - perhaps fifteen or twenty in number, dancing and flipping about each other, and escorting the Regalia in a joyous parade. “Oh, Horatio! How beautiful they are! How wonderful!” she cried. “….their hides are so shiny and silky!…..and their faces, why they look as if they’re smiling,” she laughed. She turned her face up to look at him, her cheeks glowing, her eyes bright. Their faces were but an inch or two apart, and as their eyes locked, he bent forward to lean his forehead on hers in a moment of weakness.

“Georgiana!!!” came Elizabeth’s shocked voice.

Horatio froze. Sheer panic washed across his face. Georgiana too, gasped at the thought of what was to follow. But she quickly and enthusiastically bounced off the crate and ran to her sister’s side, dragging her forward as she cried, “You must come and see this, Elizabeth! Hurry, before they depart. You have never seen such a sight. Horatio, help her up and hold her. This is not to be missed!”

Horatio was stunned by her performance, and Elizabeth, who had not the time, nor the opportunity to consider what was truly happening, protested heartily as she was pushed and pulled onto the crate. Horatio’s eyes widened as he looked down at Elizabeth’s burgeoning form. How in G-d’s name could he touch her? He positioned his arms a few inches below her person, his cupped hands ready to catch her should she lose her balance, and assured her that he would not let her fall. Georgiana gently applied pressure to her back as encouragement, rattling on all the while, not allowing any opposition to be heard, and Elizabeth bent over the rail.

Suddenly all were quiet, as Elizabeth reveled at the sight below her and the young lovers eyed each other in hopeful conspiracy. “Oh my!” cried Elizabeth. “What wondrous, playful creatures they are! How lucky we are to see them! But why do they swim along side the boat, Mr.H.?”

“We do not really know, Madam, but there is a theory that they enjoy the splash created by the movement of the ship. It is an entertainment for them, I suppose,” he replied. Then becoming bolder in their little diversion, he added, “But you were certainly right when you said we were lucky to see them, for sailors do consider it good luck to have the escort of porpoises on a journey.”

“HORNBLOWER!!! Unhand my wife,” shouted Darcy, his face a picture of shock and fury.

Elizabeth, startled by the sound of his voice, straightened herself immediately, held out her hands to Georgiana for support and she leapt off the crate. Giving her sister a pointed look, she ran to her husband, laughing excitedly, and urged him forward as she cried, “Come Fitzwilliam. You are just in time! You must see these beautiful creatures! They will bring us good luck! Come, quickly, hurry!”

“Elizabeth, what on earth…..” he began to protest, but her urging was relentless and by now, Georgiana had joined in, taking his arm and pulling him towards the rail. ‘Just look down, Fitzwilliam, for you are tall enough. You may not even need the crate to see them. Do you see them? Aren’t they magnificent creatures?” she cried.

“Indeed,” he said more calmly, straightening up and giving his wife a look that made her blush. He was on to her, she knew, … but he might be persuaded to play along for Georgiana’s sake. He bent over the rail again to watch the porpoises’ antics and quiet his agitated breathing. Elizabeth slipped her arm in his, hugged it to her and said in a whisper, “It was all very innocent, I promise you. He did not even touch me; he was afraid to.”

“Yes, but I doubt he had any trouble touching Georgiana! Elizabeth, I could easily surmise what had happened before you were pushed onto that crate, and I don’t like the thought of you being put in the position of having to defend or conceal their behavior.

“I did not wish to embarrass them. I am certain that Horatio’s only desire was to give her this happy experience,” she offered.

He gave her the slightest of smiles, and kissed her hand. “You are a wonderful sister, Elizabeth. Georgiana and I are both so fortunate. But rein her in a bit, my love. We have another ten days together and it will only become more difficult for them.”

Georgiana knew enough to give her brother and sister the privacy they obviously wanted and also realized that it was in her best interest to allow Elizabeth to weave her magic on her brother’s heart. She looked to Horatio, who had gone absolutely white, seemed angry and distressed, and was now pacing along the rail avoiding her eyes. This she could not understand. They were in a sticky situation, it was true, but surely Horatio knew her brother well enough by now to know that he would eventually let this pass. Her heart beat wildly as she waited for someone to address her.

“Well, Georgiana,” said Darcy, turning about to face her, “I dare say the sight of these exquisitely graceful creatures was alone worth our trip. How William would have enjoyed seeing them.” He gave her a reassuring smile, and she returned it, but she was sure there were lectures to follow. “Why don’t you and Elizabeth get out of the sun for a while. I wish to have a word with Mr. H.”

Georgiana’s eyes widened. She could bear any reprimand or long “serious discussion” that her brother deemed necessary, but the thought of him speaking sternly to Horatio, perhaps even humiliating him…she could not… Her eyes welled up as they pleaded with him to be kind. He read their meaning, but only turned and walked towards the young man.

Darcy continued walking and Horatio followed. He understood what was expected of him and complied. “I wish to apologize for putting Miss Darcy in what may have looked like a compromising situation, but I assure you, Sir, that I meant nothing untoward or improper. I only wanted to give her the joy of seeing the porpoises. When Mrs. Darcy came by, she wished to do the same and I simply stood beside her, ready to support her should the need arise. But neither of them was ever in any danger – not from me or the sea.”

“That may be, Mr. Hornblower, but the next time such a situation arises, I hope that you will use better judgment and call on me to assist the ladies.”

Horatio nodded, doing everything in his power to hide his anger.

“And in turn, I do sincerely apologize to you for forgetting myself and shouting your name like that. I assure you that it was not intentional. Clearly you are distress at the thought of what will follow, but as yet, I don’t believe it has registered with Georgiana. Elizabeth already knows.”

Horatio knew not what to say, but again managed to utter the required acceptance of Darcy’s apology. “I am well aware that it was my behavior or …shall I say, my seemingly inappropriate behavior that prompted that unfortunate utterance. I have no one to blame but myself.”

“I wish you to know Mr. Hornblower, that I am ready to help alleviate any distress arising from this situation. You need only instruct me as to your wishes. Knowing my sister as I do, she will not be happy to learn that she has been kept in the dark about your past, but she is an infinitely reasonable creature, quick to weep perhaps, but equally quick to forgive. And I am more than willing to shift much of the responsibility for her ignorance onto myself.”

Despite himself, Horatio could not deny that this heartfelt offer softened any bitter feelings left in his chest. He looked at Darcy directly and said softly, “I thank you, Sir. But it was my decision to hide the truth from her, from you all, and it is I who must deal with the consequences of that decision. But I do appreciate your putting in a good word for me as to my character. I know your opinions mean everything to her.”

“Not any more,” laughed Darcy, extending his hand to him. “Not any more.”

Georgiana lay on her bed, trying to quiet her heart. She was anxious about what was transpiring between Fitzwilliam and Horatio, but even more anxious about Horatio’s strange behavior towards herself. He could not possibly be angry with her for the situation they were in, for it was he who had decided to show her the porpoises. And though she could understand his distress in their being caught, she could not understand the intensity of his anger. Why would he not look at her? She shivered and pulled the coverlet around her. Perhaps it was something she had said or done? She thought back to every word that passed between, every glance…..

“HORNBLOWER! Unhand my wife!”

Hornblower! Hornblower? Was that the name Fitzwilliam had shouted? It was a name she knew, a name she had heard, no read, many times before. Horatio Hornblower! But it was impossible! Her Horatio was too young, too gentle… Surely the Naval hero in the paper was an older, more experienced man – a rough and hardened man, surely…..

But the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that her Horatio must be “the” Horatio and that they had all deliberately deceived her about his identity. Yet it was he, who had introduced himself as Mr. H. at their first meeting and it was he who had kept up the disguise – even in his letter to her, even when he was professing his love, even once they had become ….. How could he?!!! Why would he?!!! He was deceiving her with the most basic and intimate knowledge of himself – his identity, his name. Why would he not want her to know it?

She felt ill. She shivered violently and realized that the window was open and that the weather had changed. It was not only colder, but far windier. She rose to close it and saw the waves swelling to ever-greater heights. They were moving very quickly now, far more quickly than they had in the past three days. She found her warmest shawl and huddled in its warmth for a few moments, watching the waves. She would go to him directly, she resolved – not go crying to Elizabeth, or pine silently and miserably in her cabin. If his love, along with his name had always been a charade, she must know it at once! Her heart immobilized her feet, for truly she was afraid to know the answer to her query, but her mind pushed her body forward and she headed for the door.

He was aloft again – the wind whipping at his shirt and hair with such violence that she gasped at the sight of him. He held up his hand to acknowledge her, but she did not respond; yet neither did she turn away. She remained fixed to the spot, watching him, and praying for him to come down safely.

The work he was doing could not be interrupted and required both hands for the task, so he could not, at the moment, gesture to her to go below. He wanted her out of this wind and shouted to her as loudly as he could. The wind simply swallowed up his words. He gestured forcefully with his head, thrusting it to the side, again and again to make her understand, but still she stood there staring at him. From the stoop of her shoulders he understood what she felt and what she wanted, yet he had no choice but to prolong her pain a bit longer.

The higher waves now sprayed the deck and Georgiana jumped back as the water rolled towards her shoes. She turned and quickly headed towards the hatchway, hopping over the water where she could. She would have to be patient; she would have to wait.

Making her way back to her cabin she passed the Wentworths’ door and in a moment of weakness thought that perhaps she should talk to Anne. Anne would know; and Anne would tell her the truth – or nothing at all. She hesitated by the door when suddenly the captain himself opened it and seeing her there, greeted her enthusiastically.

“Ah, my dear Miss Darcy! Have you come to see my wife? I was just about to call everyone together for a bit of news,” he said, without waiting for her to answer.

“Then I shall join you, Sir”, she said, much relieved that he had saved her from her own impatience.

“Yes, it seems that the wind has decided that we should reach Copenhagen tonight rather than in the wee hours of the morning. I do not know the kind weather conditions that we shall find once we get there, but if they are suitable for docking, I don’t see why we shouldn’t sleep in a spacious, comfortable inn tonight. I suggest you pack your trunks and prepare for the possibility of going ashore. How does that sound, Miss Darcy?”

“Very exciting, Sir,” she said, forcing her face to reflect her words. “Is there anything else I need to know, Sir? If not, I shall go straight to my room and begin organizing my things.”

“No, no, nothing else. I’ll have my men bring your trunk from the hold momentarily.” He gave a slight bow as she reached her door.

Once her had closed it, she leaned against it in deeper despair. Copenhagen meant separation……at least in their living accommodations, and it had, after all, been their close living quarters that had afforded them the opportunity to get to know one another. They, of course, would be staying at the finest inn in the city and the crew would be lodged in a comfortable one close by. Horatio had been assigned to watch over the men, to make sure that they did not get too rowdy, or embarrass Captain Wentworth and her brother in any way. He was also responsible for the routine maintenance of the Regalia while in harbor. She would not see him often.

She had become so accustomed to dining with him daily, watching him throughout the day, and sitting before him in the evenings as he played his instrument. How would she now manage to feign indifference? Well, perhaps, given the circumstances, it might actually be for the best. Perhaps it would be less painful not to always have him before her.

She felt, rather than heard, the rap on the door. She opened it and he stood there with her trunk, asking permission to bring it inside. She nodded.

He placed it gently on the bureau and proceeded to the door, which he closed, before turning to face her. Her heart raced.

“Georgiana,” he began, “I hope that I still have your permission to call you Georgiana?” When she nodded, he continued, the slight hint of a smile expressing his gratitude for her generous nature. “When we first met, the circumstances were such that I felt uncomfortable in introducing myself to your brother. If you recall, he was in an unusually sour mood that day. He had insulted me in numerous ways even before he knew to whom he was speaking. He assumed, because of the work that I was doing, that I was ….. Well, let us just say, that I did not command his respect. I could have turned that around in an instant by telling him my name, but I did not wish to do so. It didn’t feel right. I would be putting him, my employer, in an embarrassing situation in front of a lady, but more importantly, I wanted his respect for who I was – an honest, respectable, hardworking man.

Georgiana finally allowed herself to release the breath she had been holding. The expression on her face had softened, but her eyes were still full of anguish. He took her hand and led her to a chair.

“I did not expect to ever see you again, although I thought of you constantly. When we met at the bookshop there was no opportunity to amend the disguise and when I learned that you would be coming on this journey, I knew I had created a problem for us both. I had a difficult decision to make, Georgiana. It is of the utmost importance that you understand why I chose to continue the deception.” Here he paused to raise her hand to his lips and then hold it to his cheek. Her tears began to spill over.

“I wanted you to fall in love with the simple, ordinary man that I am. I wanted you to compare my character, my virtues, mind and abilities to those of the men I knew, must be clamoring for your hand. I wanted to win you on those merits alone and not have you influenced by fame or patriotic fervor or worse, pity. I pray that I shall never see war again, and should you have me, you would be living with an ordinary man, not a war hero. I wanted to be sure that you loved that man before I told you. I begged your brother to keep it from you.”

He stood silent and grave, staring at the hat in his hands.

She rose slowly, placed her hand upon his cheek, and with trembling lips whispered. “Be assured, Sir, I love you for the man I see before me. I love you with all my heart.”

With an audible sigh, he placed his hand on the back of her neck and drew her towards him. His lips touched hers, lightly at first, then moaning with pleasure, he allowed his other hand come to rest on her back and pressed her even closer, kissing her passionately. They kissed each other again and again, drinking in the pleasure they had for so long denied themselves.

The knock on the door separated them. Georgiana raced to open it, while Horatio lifted up the trunk again. Alice curtsied, “May I help you pack your things, Miss Darcy? I’ve just finished the Mistress’s trunk.”

“Yes, by all means, Alice, do come in. Mr. Hornblower has just brought it down.” As soon as she was inside, Georgiana slammed the door shut with her foot. Alice jumped. “Oh, the rolling of the sea is refusing to allow this door to remain open. This is the second time it has slammed in our faces.” Horatio tipped his hat to both ladies and departed.

In the late afternoon the entire party sat down to a substantial tea, as it was impossible to know how long it would take for them to dock. Horatio, however, had been left on the bridge to search out the shoreline with his spyglass. Georgiana, of course, would have liked nothing better than to be at liberty to prepare a plate of sandwiches and a steaming mug of tea and carry it up to him, but she controlled herself, and tried to concentrate on the conversation of the others.

Suddenly a seaman appeared at the door with a message from Mr. Hornblower. The captain was needed on deck. “Something wrong, Higgins?” asked Wentworth. “Wind’s died down, Sir, but a dreadful fogs rolled in. Can’t see in front of our noses!” was his reply. “Ah, too bad. We may not be able to go ashore after all then.” Captain Wentworth excused himself and left the room.

After a few moments, Darcy, who did not want to miss out on anything, announced that he would join the captain, and the ladies, equally curious, decided to follow. When they stepped out of the hatchway, the most unusual mist accosted them. It was terribly thick at times and then would suddenly dissipate, allowing them see quite well. The lights of the city were clearly visible at such times, torches plainly defining the harbor and colored lanterns adding a touch of festivity to the already sparkling scene. It was beautiful, but then it was gone – lost in the mist and the twilight.

“I’m sorry to say that we will drop anchor and wait for the morning to take her in. It is far too dangerous in this mist. The rocks that line the coast are deadly and many a ship has been lost on them. I will not risk it,” said Captain Wentworth.

Horatio nodded and gave the order to drop anchor, but then continued to study the shoreline closely. He had seen something earlier that had raised his suspicion, but the mist had obscured it again and again. Now, suddenly, it caught his attention once more and his eyes confirmed what his heart had dreaded. There was a ship, a very large one, tossed up upon the rocks. She was leaning heavily to one side and he could see the survivors struggling in the water. She was a few miles south of the city and obviously her distress signals had not been seen by anyone.

“Captain, a ship in distress on those rocks!” he shouted, giving the coordinates as quickly as he could. The captain grabbed the spyglass to see for himself, and having done so, ordered two rescue boats to be lowered immediately. The men instantly ran their stations, bringing rope and leather straps and tools of every description.

“I thought you said it was too dangerous for us to go in. Frederick?” said Darcy. “For a large ship, it is a death sentence, but the smaller boats can get close enough to give the survivors a chance,” said Wentworth. He hastily turned to Anne and bade her go below to prepare for the wounded. She nodded, knowing exactly what was required and taking Elizabeth and Georgiana’s hands asked them to assist her.

Georgiana watched Horatio climb down into the boat already packed with men and heard him give the order to cast off and row. He stood in front, shouting for them to pull with all their might and as the oars hit the water the boat faded into the fog and was gone. Georgiana turned to follow Anne, her heart frozen with fear.

Chapter 10

Posted on Sunday, 2 May 2004

Georgiana’s eyes remained fixed on the spot where the mist had swallowed up Horatio’s boat and stumbled backwards as she was gently tugged towards the hatchway by her sister and her friend. They led her down the stairs and to her door, where Anne, taking her face in both her hands, looked onto her eyes and said softly, “Georgiana, he will be all right. He has experienced far worse, and he is strong, and skilled and sensible. You must have faith in his safe return and in the meantime, prepare yourself for the night ahead. It will be long and difficult.”

Georgiana, immobilized with fear, only nodded.

“I know you haven’t brought anything old to wear on this journey, but find your least favorite gown and put it on. Anything we wear tonight will be ruined. Bring your warmest shawl and your needlework basket, and meet me in my cabin.” She turned and rushed off to the galley to enlist Cook’s help.

Elizabeth opened her arms to Georgiana, who took comfort in them for a few moments, then smiled at her appreciatively and went in to change. Alice, who knew nothing of what had transpired, was shocked to see her young mistress’s pale face and frozen expression as she entered the room.

“There has been an accident, Alice. A boat has been thrown up on the rocks and Mr. Hornblower and the men have gone to rescue them. We must prepare to care for the wounded,” she said, in a numb, almost detached way. Please help me change into the light green gown. We must hurry.”

Anne had arranged for as many pots of water as possible to be put up to boil and had advised cook to prepare kettles of tea, spiked with rum or brandy. She then ordered the crew’s hammocks to be brought on deck, for it would be far easier to move a wounded man already secured in a hammock. This done, she gathered all the linen and toweling that she could carry and brought them to her cabin. The three ladies were already there waiting for her.

“We need to cut these sheets and towels into strips, about ten centimeters wide and then roll them so that they will be easy to use. Don’t worry about the length, we’ll cut them as we need them,” she said. Then turning to Georgiana, who still seemed to be in a daze, she added, “I will boil up these needles, Georgie, and when they are cool, you thread them with the black thread and stick them into this clean towel, all right? – Alice, find Mr. Higgins and have him cut some planking into splints and bring them up on deck. Don’t worry, he will know exactly what we need.” Instructions having been given, they all set silently to work.

The shouting of the men startled them from their thoughts when the boats returned. Only forty minutes had gone by, but it had seemed so much longer. The ladies arrived on deck in time to see the first two seamen being brought over the side. They were badly bruised and scraped, their clothing, or rather what was left of it, was in tatters, but they, themselves, were whole. The amount of seawater they had swallowed now tore at their insides and they coughed and retched pitifully. Anne instructed Alice to clean their cuts and get them warm.

The next sailor, a mere boy of perhaps sixteen or seventeen, had an enormous gash, the entire length of his thigh. With a razor in hand, Anne skillfully cut away his shirt and most of his breeches, calling for Georgiana to cover him with a blanket and then support his head on her lap. “Talk to him, Georgiana. Soothe him, but keep his mind off what we are doing.” She called for Frederick to help her and together they positioned his leg on a splint, and bound it gently so they could work. As Anne cleaned the wound, he cried out for his mother, the terror in his eyes tearing at Georgiana’s heart. She bent over him, smoothing his matted hair from his face, stroking his brow and reassuring him that all would be well. He repeated the same Danish words again and again, intent on making her understand, so she twisted her body to face him and caressed his cheek, nodding and smiling at him all the while. Suddenly their eyes locked and the panic that had distorted his face disappeared. It was replaced by trust and grateful affection. “mine engel” he kept repeating.

“Well done!” said Anne, squeezing Georgiana’s shoulders with pride. “Now let’s give him some tea with brandy and hope that he sleeps.” Georgiana looked down at his leg and saw that they had stitched it up neatly and were now gently bandaging it. She was stunned that she, no less he, had survived the ordeal! And to her further amazement, she had actually been useful to Anne and this poor boy.

The sights and sounds that had been totally obscured from her mind suddenly thrust themselves onto her consciousness. She looked about the deck to see it littered with moaning, shivering men – some only cut and bruised, others badly hurt. Lanterns had been strung everywhere to provide the light they needed and supplies had been set up on benches at strategic places around the deck.

She needed to find Horatio! She had sought him out when they first came on deck, but her attention had first been drawn to the wounded and then to this boy who still lay on her lap. How could she just place his head on the cold, hard planking? As if he had read her mind, Fitzwilliam suddenly appeared from nowhere, and taking off his waistcoat, folded it up and handed it to her to place under his head. She took it gratefully, then reached out for his support to stand. “Have you seen Horatio, Fitzwilliam? Has he returned safely?” she asked anxiously.

“Georgie, he’s gone out again. The crew was a large one – over two hundred men, I understand, and mercifully many have survived. They are still clinging to the rocks and their ship, but the tide is coming in – every minute counts.” He left her abruptly to help carry some already bandaged seaman down below.

Before Georgiana could even fully comprehend what Fitzwilliam had said, Anne pulled at her arm, dragging her to another young seaman who lay trembling in pain and cold. He had eight to ten gashes, none of them life threatening, but deep and painful to be sure. “Clean the cuts – you just have to rinse them, for the sea has helped us there. Then call me when you’re through,” said Anne, dashing off to help another.

Left on her own, Georgiana was panic stricken. How could she handle this large man, forcefully thrashing about? She did the only thing she could think of doing; she took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her, and spoke softly and soothingly, hushing his unintelligible pleas, and smiling at him when she could. He quieted. Then opening his fist, he showed her the small object that he had been desperately protecting. It was a stone figure of a woman, badly worn and rather primitive – her pendulant breasts and swollen abdomen declaring her condition. He nodded to her, placed it in her hands and then fell back exhausted. Georgiana didn’t know what to make of it, but slipped it into a fold in the bodice of her gown. She brought him some tea and helped him drink it; and when he would take no more, began rinsing his wounds.

Anne had returned and taking needle in hand, knelt beside Georgiana, who looked at her in horror! “I cannot do that, Anne! Please don’t ask me to!” she cried. “No, no. I will stitch him up, but you must hold the wound together. “Here,” she said, taking her friend’s thumbs and demonstrating how much pressure to apply, “that is all you need to do. But hold it as steady as you can.” Georgiana thought she’d be ill, yet she breathed deeply, and concentrated on her task. Within minutes, Anne’s handiwork was complete, and Frederick and Fitzwilliam carried the man below.

“Anne,” said Georgiana, pulling the little statue from her gown, “I was given this for safe keeping. What do you make of it ?”

“I have no idea, Georgie. Come place it in that large sack by the main mast. All these men have had some sort of strange object on their person and we have been collecting them there. It is quite a mystery as to what they are, but each one seems to be of great significance to its owner.”

On her way there, Georgiana stopped to kneel beside Elizabeth, who was comforting a man who seemed to be in excruciating pain. “Can I help you, Elizabeth?” she asked concerned as much for her sister as for the seaman. “His pain is subsiding, Georgie. Frederick reset his dislocated shoulder just now, and he just needs a few minutes to recover. But yes, perhaps you could get us some more tea,” she answered.

Georgiana brought two cups, one for her sister and one for her patient. Elizabeth laughed. “I can’t drink this Georgie; it has much too much rum in it!” “Shall I run down to the galley then,” asked Georgiana. “No, no,” came the reply, “The only thing I need is an extra pair of hands!”

And so it went hour after hour. Boatload after boatload of wounded and exhausted men passed through their gentle hands and where given what help and comfort was in their power to give. And although they had no common language, they could easily see when a man was in pain and could read the relief and appreciation in his eyes when he was in their care.

As she bent over her next patient, carefully securing his broken leg to the splint with bandages, Georgiana heard him suddenly murmur in English, “Is there no Laudanum aboard this ship for the pain?”

“You speak English, Sir! How wonderful. I shall get the captain. …And I shall ask about the Laudanum – although I believe we are saving the little we have for very special cases. Rest easy, Sir, I shall be right back.”

Within seconds, Captain Wentworth was kneeling beside him. “I am sure your pain is great, Sir,” said he, “But I thought it necessary to reserve the Laudanum for any possible amputees; though thankfully, everyone has come in with their limbs in tact. I’m sure you understand. The spirits we have given you should take effect soon.”

“Forgive me Captain, for being so selfish,” he replied between gasps of breath, “but perhaps just a little to take the edge off the pain. I have much that I need to tell you and I will not have the strength to do it without some relief.

The captain turned to Georgiana and asked her to fetch the drug from Anne and put a few drops of it into a little water. She returned with it immediately, and after having helped the gentleman to drink it, sat back down by his leg to finish her work.

He introduced himself as Harald Honig, a Danish citizen, who had been educated in England and who had been on an archeological expedition with the honorable and much beloved, heir presumptive to the Danish Throne, Prince Christian. It was Christian, an expert seaman and the captain of their ship, who had made the tragic error of entering the dangerous harbor during the fog. “It was not the fog that did us in, for Christian can navigate these waters blindfolded; but it was the sudden gusts of wind that thrust us into the treacherous path of the rocks. We had no time to adjust the sails and before we knew it, the ship was perched as if on a spit and its precious cargo was slipping into the sea.”

Georgiana sponged his brow and helped him to take the last few sips of the Laudanum. As she lay his head back down, he drew a deeper breath and set his pleading eyes on Captain Wentworth’s face. “He is out there now, trying to save what he can. He will not come in until every last possible piece has been retrieved. I fear he may even be contemplating going down with the ship – so great is his shame over this tragedy. Captain, you must help him! We need him! We cannot allow this single, dreadful error to change his destiny or Denmark’s future. I beg you to send your best men after him. Help him recover what he can and bring him back alive.”

This impassioned speech stunned the captain, who fully understood what this Prince Christian must be feeling. For to have arrived safely home with such irreplaceable objects and priceless works of art and then to put them, as well as his men at risk, would be unforgivable. No English captain could survive it professionally or emotionally. His heart urged him to do all he could, but he was well aware of his responsibility to his own men, and to send them out again and again, when lives were no longer at stake seemed foolhardy. The crew was exhausted. It was now past midnight and they had been struggling against a violent sea and the hazardous rocks since late in the afternoon. He shook his head. “No, I am terribly sorry, Mr. Honig. I will send my men out once more to rescue your captain, if he will come, but I cannot put my mens’ lives at risk for your cargo. They are far too fatigued to function properly; it would be reckless of me.”

“Captain Wentworth, for ten years Christian and I have been working with some eighty men to uncover these treasures by the Tigris River in what was once Mesopotamia. Some are perhaps more than two thousand years old. These objects are not for sale! It is not profit we seek! They are to go into a newly constructed museum for antiquities in Copenhagen and the opening celebration has already been planned. The royalty of Europe, Asia and the Middle East are to attend. This will be a national catastrophe! I beg you again. Do what you can!”

Georgiana had stopped her work and sat in rapt attention as Mr. Honig spoke. His love for this Prince Christian was obvious, but his own national pride was evident as well and her heart went out to him. Yet his request only meant more risk for Horatio and she could not bear to hear any more. Tying off the ends of the bandages, she rose and hurried off to one of the benches to wash her hands and gather fresh supplied. She was searching for more bandages, when she suddenly became aware of someone behind her and found herself trapped between the bench and his body. He encircled her with his arms and whispered in her ear. “Dearest nurse, would you perhaps have some time and attention to spare for a bruised and weary sailor?”

“It is my duty to attend all the injured, Sir. How may I be of service to you?” she murmured teasingly and turned to look at his face. His winsome smile was as charming as ever, but his eyes betrayed his exhaustion and discomfort. A large, ugly scrape across his cheekbone marred his face along with a two-inch gash at his temple. But it was only when Georgiana saw his hands that she let out a gasp. All the skin had been scraped off his knuckles, and the large blisters that had formed on his palms earlier in the evening had now all broken, leaving his hands completely raw.

“Horatio! Your hands! How they must pain you! Let me clean and bandage them. But why did you not come to me earlier?” she winced as she held them gently to her cheek. “No, let us show them to Anne. She will know better what to do,” she said in a panic.

Horatio chuckled, “All I need to feel better is a kiss from you, Georgiana. I’ve had broken blisters before. They do heal. But I understand that you have run out of bandages or I would let you wrap them, for it would be less painful to row the next time out.”

“I was not aware that we had run out,” said Georgiana. “There must be something I can use?” She thought for a moment, then picked up a scissor and pulled him into the empty hatchway. Lifting the hem of her gown she cut away her petticoat and tore it into strips, then stuffed the silky fabric into the neckline of her gown.

“I don’t think your petticoat will do me very much good stuffed in there,” teased Horatio, “unless, of course, you are warming it for me.” He gave her a devilish grin.

“I will not have Anne grab these for someone else!” she replied, reaching up to embrace him. He leaned into her, unwilling to touch her with his hands, and when after a long, much needed, fervent kiss, she reluctantly drew back her lips, he seized them again, unwilling to give up his much longed for prize. The sound of steps on the stair below them, brought them back to their senses and they separated.

“You are in no condition to make another trip, Horatio. I won’t allow it!” she whispered as they stepped out onto the deck.. “You are fatigued beyond endurance and besides, you need a stitch to close that cut on your head. As soon as I have bandaged your hands you must see Anne.”

“So you won’t allow it, eh?” he said musing. “I will be sure to tell Captain Wentworth that I cannot obey his orders because Georgiana Darcy will not allow it. Do you think he will be persuaded to comply with your wishes, Madam?”

“Yes,” she said, lowering her eyes and smiling, “He thinks very highly of me.” Horatio laughed. She led him to the bench that had been set up with basins and pitchers, soups and ointments and began to gently cleanse his wounds. “Promise me at least,” she said finally, “that you will not take any unnecessary risks – that you will be as cautious as possible.”

“With you to come back to, do you think that I would….”

“Horatio, there you are,” said Captain Wentworth, glancing from him to Georgiana and then back again. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. “I’m afraid I have to ask you to go out one more time for this Christian fellow. We can’t let the next King of Denmark perish on our watch, can we? Pick a few men to go with you and do what you can. But don’t put yourself in peril. Don’t do anything foolish! If he insists on remaining, let him,” he now whispered. “No heroics! Do you understand?”

“Aye, aye, Sir, Horatio grinned. “I’ve just received a similar order from my land-based commander and I am a wise enough man to know when I have been out ranked and outnumbered.”

Rowing in as close as he dared, Horatio searched the rocks and framework of the broken ship for the man they had come to rescue. The full moon, which had blessedly provided them with enough light to make their way in the dark night, seemed brighter than ever now. Yet still, he could not be seen. “Let us circle around to the other side and have a look there before we give up, men. Perhaps he’s found some sheltered, hidden spot.”

The waves crashing all around them continually filled their boat, and while half the men rowed with all their strength against the wind, the other half baled like madmen. As they rounded the bend an amazing sight greeted them. Twenty to thirty crates had been bound together with thick rope into one continuous train and were bobbing about the waves. One end of the rope was still secured to the ship, and the tall, muscular figure on board was lashing yet another crate to it. When he saw his rescuers approach, he waved to them frantically.

It was obvious to Horatio that Christian had found a way to save much of his cargo. As long as the crates remained in tact, their contents could float to safety, but if they broke apart, all would be lost to the sea. How was he going to get these crates away from the rocks and to safety? The ones closest to the ship were constantly being dashed against the rocks, but miraculously, most were still holding together.

There was no way that Horatio could get his craft close enough to any of the crates at the moment, and he winced every time a wave hoisted them in the direction of the rocks. Christian now tied the very end of the rope around his chest and lowered himself into the water. He was immediately thrust back against the jagged timbers of his broken ship. Horatio watched in awe as the man was thrown again and again, like a rag doll against the rocks and yet rose, each time to slowly make his way over them to their outer edge. Once there, he dove into the sea and swam like mad towards safer water. Now Horatio would be able to get to him – as long as the waves didn’t throw him back!

“Row lads, row!” screamed Horatio, as he took over one of the oars and pulled with all his might. Within a few minutes they were close enough to grab him and pulled his bleeding and battered body into the boat. Horatio held onto the rope for dear life, as his men cut it free from Christian’s chest and tied it to the iron mounting at the back of their boat. As they rowed desperately away from the danger, the crates miraculously bobbed behind them, obediently following their captain.

At first, Horatio did not know whether Christian had survived this last ordeal, for he lay unconscious and cold at the bottom of the boat, with barely enough strength to draw a shallow breath. But by the time they had reached the Regalia, he was breathing more steadily and a bit of color had returned to his face. They hoisted him into the waiting arms of his countrymen who had been waiting anxiously at the rail, and only then did Horatio look behind him. “Dear G-d, NO!!!” he shouted! To his horror, the rope had frayed and torn apart and their hard won treasure was floating back towards the rocky ledge! Although now alone on the boat, he sat down and began rowing furiously after the train of crates, when the sound of Frederick’s booming voice forced him to look up at him.

“Let them go, Mr. Hornblower! Let them go! Come aboard, Sir. That is an order!”

Reluctantly, Horatio changed his direction, and climbed back up the rope ladder of the Regalia. Frederick and Fitzwilliam helped him over the side, throwing a blanket over his shoulders and handing him a bottle of brandy. He refused it.

“Frederick, let me go after it! I can catch it before it reaches the rocky ledge. All I need is another man to hold the boat steady while I grab and secure it. The current is not as strong as it was. Let me go!” he said in a most demanding voice.

“There is no sailor on this deck that has the strength to help you,” cried Frederick. “They can barely lift their heads to drink!” But seeing his friend’s determined face and knowing the diplomatic benefit such a recovery would surely produce, he pulled off his waistcoat and said, “I’ll go with you…..”

“You certainly shall not,” shouted Darcy. “You are the captain of this ship and you shall not leave her while our women are on board! I forbid it! I’ll go with Horatio. I dare say I am more fit to do so than any of these weary men.”

“Fitzwilliam, no!” cried Elizabeth. “You know nothing about handling a boat in such waters. Please, Fitzwilliam!”

He gave her a brief and gentle kiss. “Elizabeth, Horatio has made countless trips tonight, and he has always returned whole. I trust him. He shall get us back safely, with or without the cargo. When the crates reach the rocks we shall turn back, I promise you!” He hugged her to him once more, then turned to lower himself into the boat. Horatio followed, some extra rope slung over his shoulder.

As he glanced up one last time, searching for Georgiana’s eyes, he saw a scene that stopped his heart. While Anne was tending the cuts on his legs, Prince Christian, now fully conscious, lay cradled in Georgiana’s arms. One of her hands supported his back, while the other held the cup from which he drank – as his head lay comfortably on her bosom.

Chapter 11

Posted on Thursday, 6 May 2004

With only the two of them rowing, they really had to put their backs into it, but as the current was now helping them along, they managed to chase down the crates rather quickly. Again and again, they grasped for the rope, yet try as they might it always stayed just beyond their reach. Horatio lunged at it and over-reaching, tumbled into the water twice. They were getting dangerously close to the rocky ledge and realized that they would have to position themselves between two crates in order to grab it, if they were ever going to catch this illusive prize. They strained against the oars; the sound of the air being expelled from their lungs resonating as savage growls. They were just in the right position and about to grasp the rope when they heard the terrifying sound of cracking and splitting timbers.

The excruciating cold of the water sent a shock wave through Darcy’s body, but the jagged splinters of wood that had thrust themselves into his calf had him doubled over in pain. He struggled to regain some control of his body so that he could swim, or at least, come up for air, but the force of the current pulled him, tumbling over and over again, into deeper and deeper water. He became suddenly aware of Horatio, being swept along beside him, with no more control than himself, as they were both sucked into the deep.

And then, in less than an instant, all was calm. They pushed their way to the surface, gasping and choking for air, their lungs on fire and their hearts about to burst. They gasped and sputtered, taking in huge gulps of air and trying to focus their eyes …searching in vain for anything that would tell them where they were. But the dense darkness made it impossible to see anything. Horatio looked up for the stars, but there were none. Had he not heard Fitzwilliam’s desperate struggle for air, he would have believed himself already dead.

“Fitzwilliam,” he shouted and his echo resounded again and again. “are you all right? Talk to me and I’ll try to reach you.”

“I’m here, and alive, but I’ve got large splinters in my leg that are smarting like the devil!” came the reply. “I don’t know how much longer I can tread water.”

Horatio had begun to swim towards the sound of his voice as soon as Fitzwilliam had started speaking and now reached him and grabbed him under his arm and across his chest. “Lean on me for a while, and let your eyes adjust to the darkness. I have a feeling that we are in an underwater cavern or the like. The echo suggests that there are walls, and as soon as we can locate one, we may be able to find a ledge or at least a place to hold on.”

Darcy was so relieved to have Horatio’s support and allowed every muscle in his body the luxury of going limp for a few moments. He refocused his mind, willing his breathing to regulate itself and telling himself that they would survive. But as he floated in the freezing water, his leg, that had hurt so bitterly only moments ago, suddenly felt numb. He was grateful for the relief, but knew it was a dangerous comfort. He tried to stretch and wiggle his toes. The pain returned immediately, and although it kept him in agony, he continued to move his legs and feet as his searched out the darkness. Then, out of nowhere, something whizzed past his head! “What the hell was that?” he shouted.

“It may have been a bat, I’m not certain. Sh….. listen!” Sure enough, a faint twittering sound could be heard; but then it grew into a crescendo as thousands of bats flew back to their roosts, and the jagged walls of the cave became distinct with the shiny wings and bright eyes of the bats upon them.

“There, look!” shouted Fitzwilliam, “about ten yards to the left. There’s a really deep ledge. If only we can reach it! How high do you suppose it is?”

Horatio was already swimming in that direction, pulling Fitzwilliam along and trying to gauge the height of the ledge, as well as the best way to reach it. The wall was rough, but very slippery. It would not be an easy climb.

“The only way to get up there is for one of us to stand on the shoulders of the other and pull himself up. Then he can pull the other after him. What do you think you can manage best, Fitzwilliam?” asked Horatio.

“Get on my shoulders and make the initial climb, Horatio. I don’t think I could manage that on my own. But there are good grasping places here, and I can easily support you for a while.”

Gripping a rock jutting out from the wall, Darcy lowered himself into the water, allowing Horatio to balance himself on his shoulders, and then pushed himself up as high as he could, his good leg pressing against the rocks for support. Horatio grabbed the ledge with his fingertips, heaved himself up, and swung his leg over. He had made it! Now, how to pull Darcy up? He lay flat on the ledge and immediately saw that his arms where not long enough to reach him and pulling off his shirt, twisted and knotted it into a rope, tied one end around his wrist and dangled it down to him. Fitzwilliam grasped the shirt, gripped the wall with his other hand and using his leg to propel himself higher and higher, scampered up the wall like a spider.

When Darcy finally collapsed on the icy ledge, Horatio ripped off the shredded fabric of his breeches and set to work to remove the splinters. It was a painful business, as many had gone deep into his calf muscle. But thankfully they were also long, and Horatio could easily feel and grasp the end of them to pull them out, even without light. With the majority of the large splinters removed, Fitzwilliam felt much relief and began to breath easy again. He took Horatio’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, my friend. I can’t tell you what a relief it is.”

They lay panting and collecting their thoughts for a while – each man worrying more about what was transpiring on the Regalia, than what was happening to them. “They must be so frightened,” murmured Fitzwilliam. “I cannot bear to think of what they are going through.”

“It hasn’t been that long yet. Frederick will be assuring them that these things take time, although he will surely have figured out by now that something has gone wrong,” replied Horatio.

Fitzwilliam pictured Elizabeth’s tortured face and shut his eyes against the sight. Somehow, despite their present troubles, he was confident that they would be reunited …they simply had to be! But the thought of her suffering pierced his heart and he cursed himself for having taken this risk – for having given in to the pride that had tempted him to join in the triumph of the recovery. He envisioned William’s determined little face and buried his face in his hands. If he were lost, the others would barely remember him, but William… William. “So help me Elizabeth,” he suddenly spat out, “once I get you home, I shall never take you further than the lakes!!!” Startled, and a bit embarrassed that he had actually uttered those words aloud, he raked his fingers through his hair and cleared his throat.

Horatio laughed at this outburst. “Well, I’m glad to hear that you are not done with all bodies of water! Your willingness to go to the lakes after this experience is quite commendable. I dare say we’ll make a sailor out of you yet.”

“I sincerely hope you have the opportunity to do so, Horatio,” he said thoughtfully. “Now what are your thoughts on our possible escape from this place?”

“Hopefully, the water will recede enough for us to find our way out the way we came. Of course, I don’t know how far away the opening is. The other possibility, and the far more dangerous one, is to try and discover where the bats enter the cave. But who knows how high or how large that opening is, and I think that scaling these walls should be our very last option.”

Darcy nodded in agreement and closed his eyes. “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?” he murmured.

“I believe the water level has been steadily receding and when dawn breaks it should be at its lowest point. Hang on, Fitzwilliam, another two hours should see us out of here.”

Fitzwilliam only mumbled. He had never been so weary in his life, and his eyes refused to remain open.

Horatio, equally exhausted, reluctantly leaned his bare back against the icy walls; his spine would simply no longer support him. He closed his eyes and summoned up the scene that had haunted him since they had pulled away from the Regalia. Georgiana was only being her beautiful, compassionate self and this Prince Christian was in no condition to even notice her. So why was seeing them together in that way, tearing at his insides? Georgiana Darcy was not a fickle woman, and he knew that she did not give her heart easily. Surely her kisses were a declaration of her commitment to him. This envy and suspicion was beneath him, he knew, yet he could not banish it from his mind. He had gone after Prince Christian’s treasure, and now he was going after his. And here he was, stuck in this BLOODY CAVE!!!”

Prince Christian was not a prince at all. He was a member of the royal family – a second cousin to King Fredrik the Sixth, whose twelve-year-old son and heir, had emotional problems and was rather lacking in the abilities needed to lead his country. He was being lovingly cared for in the palace, but it was understood, that when his father died, he would be removed to a more suitable and private sanctuary, making it impossible for him to assume the throne. Christian would then become the next king of Denmark. But Christian’s obvious physical beauty, as well as his intelligence and charm, had won him the hearts of his people long ago, and they had dubbed him Prince Christian, in happy anticipation. His extensive travels to the Middle East and his successful excavations there, kept his name and face in the newspapers, making him the most popular monarch that had yet to reach the throne.

His countrymen now doted on him, giving him their devoted attention and every physical comfort they could manage under the circumstances. Yet all he really wanted was the quiet, gentle ministrations of the blond angel that had attended him earlier. At first, he had barely been aware of her. But then her quiet confidence, the calm, sure way in which she handled him and herself, had brought much comfort and reassurance. And once his eyes had been able to fully focus on her person, he had not been sure that he had not already died and gone to heaven. Despite her soiled dress and disheveled hair, her delicate beauty overwhelmed him. At times he thought he was infatuated with her simply because she was the savior who was eased his pain and warmed him. But no - this was an exceptional woman – intelligent, refined and passionate, he believed, – and becomingly modest. He may have lost face in this shameful homecoming, but perhaps he would gain something equally precious!

He had been put in the captain’s own bed, given a bit of Laudanum to ease his pain and given the privacy to rest or sleep. Yet he could not rest knowing that his precious antiquities, or what remained of them, had not yet been recovered. It was his first concern when Anne and Georgiana entered the cabin with food and wine. “Have they not returned?” he asked, in charmingly accented English. “They should have been back by know. You would let me know if something had gone wrong; you would not keep it from me, would you? I must know the truth.”

“No, your Highness,” responded Anne. “They have not yet returned, but my husband assures me that they will shortly.”

Christian laughed. “No, no, dear Lady! You need not address me in that way. I am a member of the royal family, but the title “Prince” is only an affectionate one given to me by some overly zealous friends and somehow, it has remained with me. There may be a time when you shall be asked to call me King, but not for some time, I hope.” He gave her a smile that lit up his bruised face. Even the discoloration and swelling on his forehead and jaw could not conceal what a devastatingly handsome man he was.

“Can you manage this broth on your own, Sir?” asked Georgiana, stepping forward with a tray.

“Yes, I believe so. I have been enough of a nuisance to you already today,” he joked and raised himself painfully up on his elbows. “If you would be kind enough to just remove these pillows and help me to sit, I shall show you that I have not lost my ability to feed myself.” He grinned up at her.

She had set the tray down and was coming towards him when the coverlet fell from his shoulders and his finely chiseled, muscular chest was exposed. His skin, beneath the cuts and bruises, was golden – the months of exposure to the Mediterranean sun having given it a beautiful, even glow. She lowered her eyes and then turned to Anne for guidance.

“Let me help you up, Sir. I’m an old hand at this,” said Anne, reaching around his back and under his arms in order to pull him to a sitting position. “There,” she said, smiling and drawing up the coverlet. “Are you comfortable now, Prince Christian?”

“Yes, as comfortable as I imagine I shall be for the next few days. The rocks have no mercy for those of us made of flesh and bone.”

Georgiana brought him the tray and set it on his lap. “Is there anything else we can get for you, Sir?” she asked.

“If you would just sit with me while I eat, it would make me very happy,” came his reply.

Georgiana looked to Anne, who gave her a gentle nod and reserved smile. “I shall see about one of my husband’s shirts for you, Sir, and return shortly. Enjoy your meal.”

Pulling a chair over to the bedside, Georgiana seated herself and smiled shyly at Prince Christian. He was managing the broth, but only a spoonful or two at a time, for he needed to rest in between, to steady his breathing and continually adjust his position. It was clear, that despite the Laudanum, he was still in severe pain and just this simple act of eating was a strain on him.

“I would love a piece of that wonderful smelling bread, but I fear I can’t manage to butter it. This wrist is plaguing me. Would you do it for me, Miss Darcy?”

“Of course, how silly of me! I should have realized,” she said, preparing a slice and handing it to him. He took it from her with his right hand and ran the back of his left, along her cheek.

“I knew the moment I saw you that you were an angel sent to save me,” he said most seriously, gazing intently into her startled eyes. Confused, flustered, yet flattered, she stood abruptly, letting the butter dish clatter to the floor. She bent to retrieve it and when she straightened, Anne was just returning with a freshly laundered shirt in her hand. Georgiana made her excuses and left the room, hoping that her friend had not noticed the color of her cheeks.

She ran up on deck and linked arms with Elizabeth, who was standing by the rail, staring out at the rocks. “They’ve been gone too long,” she murmured. “Why don’t they return? I don’t understand it. I can see the rocky ledge clearly and yet there is no sign of the boat.” She bit her lip, squinted her eyes and continued to search the rocky shoreline. The sun had just broken through the horizon line and was restoring the light to the day. Shadows on the cliffs and rocks became more distinct, and Elizabeth prayed that they would reveal something to her.

“Are you really concerned, Elizabeth?” asked Georgiana innocently. “Captain Wentworth has assured me that they will return any time now.”

“Then where are they?” wailed Elizabeth, and immediately regretting her outburst, looked anxiously at a startled and frightened Georgiana. “I’m sorry, I suppose I’m so impatient because I’m so tired. I’m sure Captain Wentworth knows far more about these things than I do,” she said.

Georgiana glanced up at the bridge, where the captain stood, peering through his spyglass at the same empty expanse of sea. The lines around his mouth where drawn down in a grim and anxious frown that confirmed Elizabeth’s fears.

“But where could they have gone? I do not understand. Horatio promised to stay away from the rocks!” Georgiana’s questions flew out of her mouth, one after another, but she expected no reply. How could this be happening now,….after everything that had already occurred? It was unthinkable,…..”

She turned tearfully to Elizabeth, “There must be a logical explanation. They cannot be….” She hugged her sister to her with all her strength and wept quietly.

“Do not despair, Georgie. We must not lose hope! They must be out there somewhere. “Yes, somewhere,” she thought, “Please dear G-d not at the bottom of the sea!” But to Georgiana she said, “Perhaps they have rowed or were swept further down the coast to the right. It is possible; the current is so powerful.”

Captain Wentworth signaled to a young seaman perched high in the crow’s nest and waited for a reply. When he received it, he reluctantly made his way down towards the ladies. The look in his eyes said everything there was to say, but he swallowed uncomfortably, and shaking his head ever so slightly in obvious anguish, began to speak. “Mrs. Darcy, Elizabeth…. I…, I’m afraid I cannot keep this from you any longer. The boat Fitzwilliam and Horatio were on has somehow…vanished. It is nowhere to be seen, and we can only assume that they hit the rocks and…”

“No, no, could they not have drifted off course? Could they not be further to the left or right? We must continue to look for them!” cried Elizabeth.

It took great effort for him to look her squarely in the face, but he did so and added, “The man in the crow’s nest has a view of the sea in all directions, Elizabeth. He cannot spot them and neither can I. I have been round the deck countless times and there is no sign of them. I cannot tell you how it hurts me to tell you this. I feel responsible for urging you to come on this voyage…… I loved them both.”

“And I love them still, and I will not give up so easily!” she shouted, feeling herself lose control. She watched his lips tremble and eyes water and opened her arms to him in silent recognition that he too, was suffering. But when she pulled away a moment later, she said again, “Frederick, I’m not ready to accept this. I know you think me mad or irrational with grief, but my heart tells me they are alive. Please keep looking. Can you not send a boat out to look for them? Is there nothing you can do?”

Wentworth now felt uneasy about sending another boat out, as much for what they might find, as for the risk. Yet he could not have Elizabeth or Georgiana think him unwilling to do everything necessary to find them. So reluctantly, he nodded, and called for a boat to be launched immediately. He excused himself, saying that he needed to attend to the particulars himself, but in truth, he wanted to get Anne up on deck to support the ladies.

They no longer wept, but stood in stunned silence, frozen with unspeakable dread. They clung to each other as they watched the sea. Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment, summoning Fitzwilliam’s face to her mind, but the one that appeared was a far more youthful one – the agitated and beautiful face of the man who had finally said, “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” She hugged Georgiana to her a little tighter.

“Speak to me Fitzwilliam!” she thought, concentrating on the rocky shore. “Tell me where you are! Send me a sign, I beg you! Speak to me – speak to me, my love.” She listened to her breathing, to the beating of her own heart – she waited and waited but heard and felt nothing. But just as she was about to give into despair, she had the strangest thought, and let out a sharp little breath.

“What is it, Elizabeth?” asked Georgiana. “Have you seen something?” She looked up at her hopefully.

“No, Georgie, I’ve seen nothing. I just thought of what Fitzwilliam would probably say if we survived this. It’s so silly really, but I pictured him saying that if we ever got home and I wanted a holiday, he would take me no further than the lakes.”

Sudden shouting from the stern sent them running and when they looked into the water they were stunned and disappointed to see the train of crates gently bumping the side of their ship. Anne and Frederick arrived but a moment later and gasped at the sight. For not only had the crates drifted back to them, but the broken planks of the small boat had as well. As they bobbed in the water, one flipped over and the red painted “Re” in fancy Gothic lettering could clearly be seen. There could be no doubt now. They were lost.

“No, no! It cannot be! They are alive! I know it; I feel it. You must believe me!” cried Elizabeth, as she held desperately onto Georgiana who was ready to collapse in her arms. Anne grabbed Georgiana and brought her to a chaise, asking Frederick to remain with her while she tried to calm Elizabeth. She looked at her friend and knew there was nothing that she could say that would comfort her. She stood quietly beside her as wept into her hands. Elizabeth was inconsolable.

Fitzwilliam awoke to the sound of dripping water. He stirred uncomfortably on the cold ledge, gingerly testing each painful muscle before daring to flex it and move himself into a sitting position. Shafts of light were streaming into the cave from a narrow opening above him and when he looking down, he could see that the water had receded, leaving the smooth stone floor of the cave visible. He nudged Horatio, but he did not move.

“Horatio, wake up! The tide is out.” He shook him forcefully, yet he still did not stir. Fitzwilliam put his cheek to Horatio’s mouth, terrified that he had stopped breathing, but he had not. His body was cold, bitterly cold however, and he knew that if he didn’t wake him quickly and get his body moving he would lose him. He pulled Horatio’s torso up to lean against his chest and taking hold of his arms, moved them around every which way, while shouting in his ear. “You must wake up Horatio or we’re going to die here! Wake up!” Gradually, Horatio’s eyes began to move behind his lids, and slowly and painfully, he became conscious of his surroundings. He tried to move, but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate. He hurt all over. Why did everything hurt so much? He was cold, terribly cold and all he wanted to do curl up and sleep.

“You must try and keep yourself awake, Horatio. Move your legs, again, again! We have to get off this freezing ledge and get out of here before the water returns. Think of Georgiana; think of Frederick and Anne. They are waiting for your return. Perhaps Prince Christian will hold a parade in your honor if you just stay awake,” he added in jest. But it was that name and that image that brought Horatio to full consciousness. He let out a groan. His muscles hurt so terribly, but he forced himself to continue moving them. Finally he was able to manage a coherent sentence. “ I’m with you, Fitzwilliam. I just can’t move very quickly just yet.”

“Thank G-d your awake! I thought I’d never rouse you! We’ll have to jump down. Do you think you can do that?”

“Jump? No. I think it would be better to ease ourselves off slowly, hang and then drop the last few feet. Go first; I’ll hold onto your hands,” said Horatio.

Without hesitation, Fitzwilliam turned himself around and eased his legs off the ledge. Then taking a deep breath, he lowered his body up to his chest, his elbows and arms still supporting him. Horatio grabbed his wrists and he let himself slide down and hang. “Let go now,” he shouted, but Horatio lost his balance came tumbling down on top of him. Fitzwilliam hit the ground hard on his back, but miraculously, he had managed to keep his chin to his chest and avoided hitting his head. With the wind knocked out of him and Horatio’s weight on top of him, he wasn’t sure if any of his bones were still in tact. He lay panting and moaning as Horatio rolled off him and lifted his head onto his hands. “Good G-d, I’m so sorry Fitzwilliam. Can you move? Is anything broken. Can you even tell?”

Fitzwilliam smiled. “Do you always ask so many questions at one time? I haven’t even figured out if I’m alive yet.”

Horatio breathed a sigh of relief. Fitzwilliam would not be able to joke this way if he were seriously hurt. “I hope you don’t mind my having used you to break my fall. It was surely the fastest way for me to get down.” He grinned.

“I was glad to be of service. Just don’t do it again, I beg you. Now help me up and let me see what condition I’m in.”

Horatio supported him gently, still afraid that some serious damage may have been done, but when he was finally standing, Fitzwilliam’s biggest complaint was the tenderness of his calf muscle. He hobbled around a bit, trying to prove his ability to walk and the two began to make their way out of the cave. It must have been about a quarter of a mile to the mouth of it, and even before they reached it, they could see the Regalia, in full sail, moving away from them and towards the port. They ran the last fifty yards, waving and shouting for them to wait!

Elizabeth had had no choice. With almost two hundred extra men on board, they had run out of drinking water and many of the seriously injured sailors needed medical attention; she could not make them wait any longer. Frederick had promised to return and continue the search as soon as their visitors had disembarked. For now, all she could do was pray and stare at the shoreline as they passed it. She turned for a moment to look at Georgiana, who was still in the same curled up position on the chaise, her eyes closed, her lips trembling. She, was losing the love of her life and the father of her children, but poor Georgiana had not had the chance to experience these blessings. To lose both Fitzwilliam and Horatio! Would she ever recover from such a tragedy?

“I’ve spotted them! There, on the shore! Captain Wentworth, they’re alive!!! Look, look!!!”

The shout rang out from the crow’s nest. A loud whistle blew and everyone ran to the rail to look, and jump and wave. Only Elizabeth stood paralyzed, watching her husband, his arms above his head, waving his shirt about, shouting something she could not hear. She closed her eyes and gave thanks, then opened them again slowly, afraid that he might have vanished again. But he was still there, hobbling about. He was hurt, she could see that he was hurt, but he was alive and well enough stand on his own two feet! Her arms reached out as if to touch him. “Oh Fitzwilliam,” she thought, “once I get you in my arms again, I shall never let you go!”

She turned to Georgiana who was still in a daze on the chaise. She had started to rise and with tears flowing freely down her cheeks, now made her way towards the rail. Could it be true? Were they really both alive? Elizabeth hugged her and showed her where to look. She gasped, then releasing all her pent up emotions, began to sob bitterly, and buried her head in Elizabeth’s shoulder.

“How will we get to them?” cried Elizabeth, over the noisy exultations of the crew. Knowing full well that the danger was not yet over, her mind raced with possible options for a rescue. Fitzwilliam could not be made to climb those rocks and swim toward a boat now that he was hurt! But was there another choice? She looked to Frederick anxiously.

He took her aside, kissed both her hands and smiled at her. “I commend you for your faith and fortitude, Dear Lady. You were right! You were right all along!”

“But how will we get to them?” Elizabeth repeated. “Is there any way we can avoid sending them in the water again?”

“I’m going to ask Christian if there is a way to reach that strip of shore by land. The cliffs there look formidable, but he will know the particulars.” He gave her a quick bow and raced to the hatchway.

Look, Fitzwilliam! They are raising all the flags in our honor! They see us! It won’t be long now.”

“The thought of going back into that cold water is not something I relish,” answered Fitzwilliam, “but I would swim all the way back to her if I had to!”

“ I doubt that will be necessary my friend. They’ll figure out a way to get us back. We might as well sit and save our strength,” said Horatio. “The sun feels wonderful, though not nearly warm enough to warm me.”

They eased themselves onto the smoothest rocks they could find, and resting on their elbows, lifted their faces to the sun. They would not dare lay back and risk falling asleep again. Fitzwilliam shot a glance at the younger man beside and smiled. “I wish you to know, Mr. Hornblower,” he said in a most serious tone, “that I was well aware of your forward advances towards my sister earlier this evening. Do all seaman forget that they are English gentlemen once they board their vessels?”

Horatio was stunned, but said nothing.

“Well, I assume by your silence that it is true then. So may I remind you that while you are on my ship I expect gentlemanly behavior, and therefore,... when we next see the ladies, should you experience such inappropriate and unseemly desires, might I suggest that you control yourself and whisk her away to a more private place before kissing her so soundly.”

Horatio let out a long, slow breath and shook her head. “You really had me going there, Fitzwilliam!”

“I know,” he chuckled, “and I savored every second of it!”

Horatio rolled onto his side to face him. “Seriously, Fitzwilliam, you do know how much I love her? She is all that matters…….”

But Fitzwilliam had jumped up at that very moment and pointed to the Regalia making her way into port. “Where the devil are they going?” he shouted in great agitation.

“No, no!” cried Horatio, rising to stand beside him. “It is a really good sign! It must mean that they have discovered a better way to reach us. And I assure you they will …..before the tide comes in.”

Continued In Next Section

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