AN: You guys (unless you have written a story) cannot fathom how cool I feel whenever somebody leaves a review or adds my story to their alert list. So I just can't stop thanking you all, considering this is my first story and I'm kind of naive when it comes to writing this stuff. I hope I'm not boring you all with the lack of action, so I decided to give you a treat. Something I wasn't planning on revealing until later. Enjoy :D.
The First Mate
Time again to dine. William groaned. He had never noticed just how often humans had to eat until yesterday. Now instead of meals being a welcome break, they were more of a chore than fixing rigging, or even peeling potatoes.
As he made his way down to the mess hall, he met Charles.
"Darcy, what's gotten into your head?" asked the ever-friendly man. William sighed internally. He really didn't deserve a companion so amiable.
"I've been charged with feeding the mademoiselle," he muttered.
"Hardly a complaint," observed Charles at a slightly lower volume.
"Indeed it is. The effect that she has on me is frightening," said William.
"Effect?" inquired Charles.
"I-" began Darcy, before he hesitated. "Her eyes never leave my head." He spoke the words like he was admitting a shameful truth.
"Would you like me to take Mademoiselle Bennet her food today?" asked Charles quietly, watching William with genuine concern.
Darcy sighed in relief.
"How could I ever repay you?" he asked, feeling lighter in spirits already.
"The next time I capture a woman that I cannot stand, you may bring her food instead of me," grinned Charles.
Darcy shook his head knowingly. "Charles, if you find a woman that you cannot stand, I may throw you both a party and crown that woman queen of repulsiveness. You never see a single fault in people. It drives me mad sometimes."
"That is hardly true!" exclaimed Charles.
"Oh really?" asked William, "Can you name a single person that you do not like?"
Charles shifted uncomfortably. "But I'll bet I will find one," he eventually mumbled.
William shook his head. "Write me when you do, I wasn't joking about the party."
He and Charles laughed.
"Come, let's get some food. If the task is as grievous as you claim, I wish to get it done," said Charles with a hint of a laugh in his tone. Darcy followed him to the mess hall.
Elizabeth jolted awake from her almost unconsciousness. She hadn't slept a wink while aboard this infernal ship.
Dazed and overtired, she found the source of her sudden waking. There was another polite rap on the door.
"Come in," she called grumpily. She did not want to see that Darcy man again.
But a different man was easing himself into the room, carrying the customary heaping tray. He looked happier than Fitzwilliam Darcy, and though he was not as tall, he was almost as handsome.
When he had set the tray down, he straightened up, beaming. Though when his eyes fell on Elizabeth, his expression changed to concern.
"To whom do I have the pleasure of seeing?" she asked.
"Charles Bingley," said the man, advancing towards her, and holding out his hand for hers. She shook her head. She couldn't find the energy to move.
They both jumped at a very nasal sound. Elizabeth peered around the desk to see Mr. Collins fast asleep, and evidently snoring.
Charles chuckled. "Pleasant company I see."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
"Has Mr. Darcy been relieved of his food-bringing duty?" she asked, not that she was complaining.
"I offered to do it today. He is one of my oldest friends," answered Charles.
"You like him?" asked Elizabeth.
"Oh yes, he is a very amiable companion, I find. Though he has been in a bit of a sour mood lately," he replied.
"I wonder why," muttered Elizabeth sarcastically.
Charles looked at her and shook his head slightly. "Though you may be the trigger, mademoiselle, I believe that he has been like that for a while, ever since his father looked over him in picking a first mate."
"He will not be captain?" gasped Elizabeth.
"No," answered Charles. "Though I fear Captain Darcy may just be taking his misery out on his son."
"Misery?"
"It's a tragic story. You see Captain Darcy loves his wife; the ship is named for their marriage, their love. But sixteen years ago, when young William was eight, she died giving birth to Georgiana, their second child. Captain Darcy lost his smile that day."
"So you believe that he blames his children?" asked Elizabeth.
"Oh, absolutely not," cried Charles, "Or at least not intentionally."
Elizabeth smiled. He reminded her of Jane.
"But what of your theory?" Elizabeth reminded him.
"As I said, it is certainly not intentional, and Mr. Wickham is quite amiable, perhaps our captain has other reasons," shrugged Charles.
"You refer to the first mate?" asked Elizabeth.
"Oh yes," replied Charles. "Mr. Wickham is a very well-bred man, he has no enemies here."
"Not even William Darcy?" asked Elizabeth curiously.
"They are old friends, he had known Mr. Wickham long before we first made our acquaintance. They are not enemies, though not quite friends, I daresay."
Charles looked at the clock on the wall and jumped.
"My goodness, Mademoiselle, I must be on my way. I apologize for such a rude exit."
"Think nothing of it," replied Elizabeth. "I wouldn't want to starve you for my sake."
Charles bowed to her in farewell and departed.
Elizabeth felt a little happier despite herself. She wanted to meet this Mr. Wickham.
