Author's note - This is my first JAFF. It's a Regency story beginning in the late spring of 1812. Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy visit Kent, but rather they both attempt to travel to North America for very different reasons. Along the way, a violent storm wrecks the ship and our favorite couple finds themselves stranded on a deserted island alone together. PG-13
I will admit the title of this story turned out to be rather ironic. I had different intentions for this tale when I first began, but as all writers know, sometimes the story and the characters guide you instead of the other way around. As a result, it's a bit more angsty than I originally intended. Have no fear - I file this story under angst/romance for a reason.
Revised and Reposted - 03/09/2007
Chapter 1
"I must remember to pull the curtains closed at night," Elizabeth Bennet thought to herself as her eyes struggled to blink open. The intensely bright sun shone into her fine eyes and she turned her head to avoid its cruel brilliance; a delicate hand reaching up to shield herself from any additional torture from its rays. She could not recall the last time she awoke with such a headache and groaned rather audibly into her hands.
Elizabeth suddenly became more aware of herself and her surroundings as the back of her protective hands grazed the prickly fabric of the blanket beneath her. She removed one hand gradually from her face and turned it towards the offending material. It was thick and gray, not anything she was accustomed to. Curiosity and fear overcame her concern for the pain in her head as she quickly removed her other hand from her eyes and found herself gazing directly into the side of a wooden barrel. Her head immediately spun itself around, much to her dismay as it only caused her to quickly recall the reason for the careful guarding of her eyes. The combination of the rapid movement and the bright sun caused a severe reaction in the pit of Elizabeth's stomach, which quickly found its way to the back of her throat. Relief was found in only one option, the immediate necessity of which caused the young woman to abruptly stand and placing one hand on the closest tree, she leaned forward and found her momentary relief.
Quite disgusted with herself, she leaned back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, an old habit from her childhood resurfacing. Her other hand was still pressed against the tree as she could not find her balance to stand without it. She quickly realized that her reliance for stability was on an object that most certainly was not found in her bedroom at Longbourn. Remembering her former folly, she slowly turned her head about herself and was quite at a loss to understand her environment. To her right was the blanket from whence she came and the barrel that had so disturbed her. Beyond those items there were several other barrels, a few wooden crates and a trunk that she did not recognize. Turning again to the right she was struck with intense astonishment. Before her was the bright blue sea, ever expanding into the horizon, with waves softly crashing onto the sandy beach. She stared out at it, not knowing quite what else to do. She was frozen and unable to think, not even to consider the formally hateful sun that no longer seemed to bother her wide, dark eyes, except to cause them to blink every so often. Her heart was beating uncommonly fast and her breathing suddenly became too quick for her to handle as she fell forward, knees landing ungracefully into the sand.
Her mouth dropped open but no words were found. She was finally able to tear her eyes away from the scene directly in front of her in order to take in more of her surroundings. Turning to the right again, she realized that the beach took a sharp turn and she could not see land more than one hundred feet beyond herself. To her left, the beach seemed to go on for several miles before also turning away. Behind her was her friend, the tree, surrounded by a multitude of its kin, becoming too thick for her to see more than twenty feet beyond.
"How…?" was the only word that seemed appropriate to say, if anything was necessary considering her seemingly solitary situation. Without any memory of how she came to be in her present state, she stood up gingerly with the intention of inspecting the objects that she had previous been sleeping amongst. The barrels and crates did not seem to be opened and therefore their contents were currently a mystery. Her blanket, she realized, was actually two, one being thrown to the side, possibly in her sleep. Not far in front of her were the remains of a fire, the coal still smoking slightly. "Who…?" was the only other word her lips could find.
"Miss Bennet! You are awake!" cried a familiar voice behind her. Elizabeth quickly spun around to look at the lofty figure moving towards her, but unfortunately her former ailment quickly accosted her yet again. Clutching her stomach, she slowly moved herself down into the sand, clenching her teeth in hopes that the wave of discomfort would pass if she stayed perfectly still. In the meantime, the tall man from the wood that had called out to her dropped the bundle of sticks that he was carrying and ran directly to her side.
"Are you alright? Are you ill?" He was kneeling in front of her, his large hands wrapped around her shoulders. She would have looked up or better yet scolded the man for his lack of propriety if she did not fear that her present state would result in the same way that it had done not long before. She wished more than anything for that not to happen. She was resolved to remain quite still and silent until the feeling past. Unfortunately, there was no way to communicate this plan to the gentleman before her and he began to lightly shake her in an attempt to gain her attention.
"Good God! Miss Bennet, please answer me! Are you alright?" Her answer was not at all what he expected and was also exactly what Elizabeth had hoped to avoid. She managed to turn herself around before the unpleasantness occurred, thereby sparing the gentleman from having to share in her discomfort. "Oh my… let me get you some water."
While the act itself was something she thoroughly disliked, the relief it brought made her sigh and say a quick prayer. Before she could take anytime to ponder all that had just occurred, the gentleman had returned and was bearing a glass of water in his hand. Holding it up to her lips, he tipped it up forcing her to drink, while he instructed, "Here. Drink as much as you can. You are very dehydrated, and you will continue to be sick unless you get some sustenance in you." Barely hearing him, she reached up and took the glass from his hands and drank with such a need that she had never known before. When the glass was empty, she found him taking it out of her hands and her eyes followed the glass to the man. She looked into his eyes, squinting and breathing heavily, she found her voice.
"Mr. Darcy!" she said between breaths, "What are we doing here? What happened?"
"Come. I'll explain it all to you later. Right now you need food and water and rest." He placed a hand under her arm and gently pulled her up. Wavering as she stood, she reached up and took a firm grasp of his shirt before falling into him. "You are not strong enough to be walking about yet," he said matter-of-factly and without further conversation reached down and lifted Elizabeth into his arms and carried her over to the blankets. He placed her down lightly, his breath on her face as he released her. "There. Now don't move."
Awestruck at what had just occurred, her eyes followed him as he lifted the top of one of the nearby crates and took out a small yellowish orange fruit. He placed it on top of one of the barrels, reached behind him, took out a large knife, and began to slice it into pieces. After carving it, he brought the pieces over to Elizabeth who eyed the fruit suspiciously. "If you don't eat…"
"Yes, I know that I should eat, Mr. Darcy, the problem lies with whether or not I can," she interrupted, "I fear that whatever I eat will not agree with me."
"You will be surprised how much better you will feel once you have something in your stomach," he retorted. She sighed and took the fruit from him. She had to admit she felt a little better since drinking the water, and conceded that perhaps the fruit would have an even greater effect. Elizabeth hesitantly brought the food to her lips and felt astonished as she took her first taste. It tasted remarkably like a peach and even looked a little like one, pit and all. She continued enjoying it, forgetting her previous illness entirely.
Meanwhile, Darcy sat down in the sand near her and watched her eat. At first she was too occupied with her meal to take notice of his gaze, but when she briefly looked up she was taken aback by his intent look. "Is there something in my manner of chewing that offends you, Mr. Darcy?" The sides of his mouth turned slightly upright before converting back into a look of solemn concern.
"No. As a matter of fact I am delighted to see you eating, to see you awake even. You have been asleep for two days and…"
"Two days!" Elizabeth cried.
"Yes, well more like thirty-six hours," he continued, "I was fearful that you would never wake, so to see you as you are now, well, it is a great relief to me." Elizabeth eyed him closely as he spoke and as he finished she thought she could detect tears in his eyes, but he quickly turned away and stood before she could determine if it was so. Picking up the glass once again, he walked over to the crate from which he had earlier extracted the fruit and pulled out of it a ceramic jug. After pouring water into the glass he brought it over to her.
"Would you not like some for yourself, sir?" she asked, holding out a piece of fruit to him.
He held up a hand, "No, thank you, I've had quite enough." She gestured for him to sit and again he refused her, "No, actually there is much to do and only a few hours of daylight left. There will be plenty of time for discussion later. In he meantime, I need to collect as much wood as possible and get the fire going again." She nodded, "But can you not tell me how it is we came to be here. And these things, where did they come from?"
"Madam, please try and understand that it is going to be dark soon, very dark, and cold. The need for a fire will be great indeed, much greater than your need for an explanation. Please hold your questions until I have accomplished this task."
"Very well," she conceded, "What can I do to help you, to speed this process along?"
"Exactly what you are doing. Stay here and eat. Get your strength back; I believe you are going to need it." With that he walked into the forest and Elizabeth's eyes followed him until he was no longer in sight.
For a little over an hour, Elizabeth sat on her blanket and watch the tide move in, trying to remember something, anything that could explain her present condition. Every so often, Darcy would emerge out of the trees with a pile of wood in his hands and add it to the heap. She did as she was told, although it pained her to do so for she dearly wished to discuss their situation but she understood completely the need for a fire, especially as the sun started to set and it began to get darker. Feeling as though she had some of her strength back, she rose cautiously, leaning on her former foe, the barrel, and taking a closer look at their stash. She was not sure how she had missed it before but there was a small rowboat pulled on shore, almost to the trees, just beyond the wood pile. The sight of it brought back flashes of memory that caused Elizabeth to close her eyes in hopes of bringing about more recollections. Alas, it was not to be, and as quickly as the flashes came they were gone again and only left behind the dreadful feeling of being cold and very wet.
Elizabeth shivered at the sensation and wrapped her arms around herself. Only then did she begin to comprehend her current physical state. Her white cotton dress was severely stained and had an uncomfortable rigid feeling, the result of being thoroughly soaked in salt water and dried out again. Her brown, silk pelisse was a ghastly site and her gloves were missing. Her black satin shoes looked surprising decent, the sand and the salt residue falling easily off when touched. Her bonnet was missing as well and she was mourning its loss as she recalled the abusive rays of the sun. Her hair was what gave her the most misery and she was almost glad she could not see herself. It was tangled and stiff; several pins were still present, although they served no purpose. She pulled them out and tried to run her fingers through the mess. As she struggled, Mr. Darcy unexpectedly appeared with another pile of wood. Elizabeth was suddenly embarrassed by her appearance and turned away from him.
"I believe I had better get the fire started again before darkness is upon us," he told her, gathering his supplies about him and kneeling by the fire pit. She did not reply but awkwardly tried to mend her disheveled exterior while at the same time trying to look as if she was not concerned with it. The sight struck Darcy as very humorous when he looked up at her and he failed to suppress a light chuckle at her endeavor. Elizabeth wanted to scold him for this but saw the absurdity of her situation and could not help herself from laughing along with him. The scene she found herself in – on a deserted beach in an unknown location with Mr. Darcy, laughing – was not one that even her imaginative mind could have conjured in the past. This thought brought her back to reality and seeing that Darcy had a small fire going she ventured forward and asked, "Will you now explain, sir, how we come to find ourselves so disagreeably situated?"
"Miss Bennet, while I understand your opinion perfectly, I find I cannot wholly agree with you. While our situation does seem dire, I believe it could be much worse." With this clever reply that very purposefully avoided the question, Darcy rose and retrieved the blankets, the water jug and the glass before addressing her again. "You will understand soon enough. Please make yourself comfortable, this story will take some time."