Page 38 of Losing Lizzy
Glancing up to the sky, he realized the rainstorm had moved inland, and the sky was brighter than when he had setoff from Burntwick; however, the wind had not abated. In fact, it was, from his experience on the sea, what his fellow sailors would have called a “gale.”
Pulling his coat tighter about him, Darcy began to search the area closest to where the boat rested, carefully sweeping back and forth across the island, constantly calling his child’s name, although he was uncertain whether his words were being snatched away before anyone could hear them. Often, he paused to listen for a return cry, but, other than the occasional whistling sound of the wind as it shoved its way between openings created by cracks in the rocks or between remnants of abandoned structures—likely left over from the prison hulks, there was nothing moving except him, swirls of dead vegetation, and a myriad of insects that buzzed about his head.
Starting out again, he beseeched, “Elizabeth Anne!” What he hoped was dust, but was likely rotting bones and debris from prison hulks slapped him in the face, and he paused to wipe it from his mouth and eyes. “Please answer me!” he continued. “I know you are frightened, but your mother and I are here for you.” Naturally, he realized the child would not understand the hidden desperation in his words, but he worked hard to keep his tone the type that would induce his daughter to show herself, for if she was not near, he had no idea where next to search for her. He absolutely could not tell Elizabeth he had failed her again. She would never forgive him. Hell, he would never forgive himself!
He kicked up bones from a shallow grave, one where someone had died from some sort of agonizing disease. He had witnessed more than one crew mate suffer from scurvy and malaria. “Elizabeth Anne! Please, darling!” He turned in a slow circle, his eyes searching each rock and piece of lumber—each plant and scraggy tree—until, at length, they landed on a bit of yellow sticking out from a drab background. She was hidden behind two uprooted trees, whose branches were laced together, as if they chose to fall down in each other’s arms.
His first instinct was to rush over and grab her up into his embrace, but Darcy set his anticipation aside to approachslowly. She had experienced enough tragedy for any one lifetime. “Elizabeth Anne,” he said steadily, “I know you are behind the tree. Will you not come out, darling?”
At once, she began to whimper, and so he dropped down to his knees on the other side of the fallen trees in an attempt to coax her out without scaring her more. He wanted her to accept his protection—as her father. “I know you are frightened. I realize you do not know me, and I must imagine how dearly you want your mother.”
The word “mother set off her tears, and it was all Darcy could do not to reach over the limbs and snatch her into his arms to comfort her, but it was too soon. “Where’s mama?” she hiccupped. “Mr. Towsand say Mama was here, waitin’ for me, then he left. Mama not here.”
Darcy swallowed the curses rushing to his lips. Telling her he would take her to her mother had been his first choice to convince his daughter out of hiding. He must find a safe place for her from whatever animals roamed this island and from the storm. The wind had not slowed. “Your mama is on the shore watching for your return. With the wind and the rain, I did not want to risk her life. You require your mama, do you not?”
“And Uncle Allbirk.”
Darcy smiled with her pronunciation of Sheffield’s name. “Your Uncle Albert is protecting your mama right now from the storm.”
Her little lip trembled. From the cold or fear, he did not know. He could tell she had on a cape, but, with the dark, he could not tell whether it was heavy enough to protect her or not. “Who ‘tect me?” she asked sadly.
“Your mama thought I could do the job if you would permit it.”
“Who you?” she asked, her sweet face crunching up in an obvious new round of fear. Dirt and dried tears showed upon her cheeks.
“If I tell you who I am, I do not want you to be afraid. Can you be a brave girl, like your mama?”
“Mama brave?” she asked.
“Oh, my darling child, your mama is one of the bravest people I know. She brought a beautiful little girl into the world. That takes someone special, do you not think?”
She stood for a brief second, and he could view more of her, but she nearly lost her balance when a gust of wind barreled down upon them. He was prepared to grab her, if necessary, but catching her to him would also bring about more fears, and Darcy would not have her unwilling to go with him. She squatted low again.
“Mama loves me,” she reasoned.
“Very much,” he assured. “And although you and I have just met, just like your mama, I love you.”
The wind sent a shiver of cold down his spine. He was certain his daughter must be equally as uncomfortable.
“Who you?” she repeated.
“I am your father,” he said softly.
She bolted upright and prepared to dart away. Her eyes were as round as saucers. “Mr. Towsand said there be dead people here. My papa is dead.”
Darcy moved slowly to keep her calm. “I am your father, Elizabeth Anne.” He spoke in quiet tones. “I will prove it to you. Your mama told me you would not trust me unless I knew the secret words. Is that not correct?”
“You know words?” she asked. Her eyes darted left and right, likely seeking another place to hide.
He held himself perfectly still. He could easily catch her, but he wanted her to trust him. However, the wind had again grown stronger, and dusk was upon them. He knew he should speed things along, while practicing care. “Years ago,” he began as he edged forward, “when your mama and I first met, there was a lady who thought I did not like your mama.”
“The witch Caroline?” she asked.
He was thankful to have cut ties with the Bingleys, but, God help him, it might be worth one social call just to hear his daughter call Caroline Bingley a “witch.”
“Yes, the witch Caroline,” he said with a smile. “Anyway, I told the witch Caroline—.” The name was growing on him. “I had been mediating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bring a man. The pretty woman was your mother, and the secret words are ‘fine eyes.’”
She bolted then, but not away from him. Rather, right at him. Darcy caught her and scooped her into his arms. He kissed the side of her head and unbuttoned his coat. “Let us warm you properly.” He tucked her inside and wrapped the coat about her.
