Mr. Darcy, Vampyre

Chapter 2

The Darcy entourage was a large one. Behind Darcy and Elizabeth’s coach was a second carriage which contained Darcy’s valet, Elizabeth’s maid, and trunks of clothes. There were footmen to guard the party from attack and outriders to go ahead of them and pay the tolls, so that when the Darcys arrived, the turnpike was open and the coach could pass straight through.

It was all very different from the journeys Elizabeth had taken with her family in the past. Then, she had been subjected to all the delays and discomforts which accompanied a less luxurious style of travel. She had been packed in with six other people who had laughed and squabbled, exclaimed or complained all the way.

The coach soon left Hertfordshire behind and they began to travel in a south-easterly direction. To begin with the road was familiar to Elizabeth. She had taken the same road the previous Easter when she had visited Charlotte at Rosings Parsonage. This time, however, she did not break her journey in London but continued straight on to Kent. The coach passed through towns and villages, but for the most part, it rolled through the countryside, which was rich with autumn fruitfulness. Blackberries glistened in the hedgerows, and apple trees, laden down with fruit, grew in the fields.

Darcy said little on the journey. He appeared to be thinking about something and Elizabeth did not like to disturb him. His look, at least, was not tormented, merely abstracted, and she found herself wondering if he were prey to strange moods.

She asked herself how much she knew of him, really. She had seen him at Netherfield and Rosings, and at his home in Derbyshire, but there had always been other people present and she knew that, in company, men were not always what they were alone. She had been alone with him as they had walked through the country lanes around Longbourn after their engagement, and yet even then they had not been truly alone: there had always been a neighbour going shopping, a farmer going to market, or a servant on an errand. But now it was just the two of them and Elizabeth found herself both excited and disturbed at the prospect of learning more about him. She wondered what other new facets of his character would be revealed over the coming weeks; she also wondered what further changes of plan there might be before the end of her wedding tour.

This thought led to another and she smiled.

Darcy looked at her enquiringly.

‘I was just thinking that I seem destined never to visit the Lake District,’ she said. ‘I was meant to be going there last year with my aunt and uncle, until my uncle’s business concerns made us change our plans. And now, the plans have been changed again. I wonder if I will ever see the lakes?’

‘I promise you we will go there, but if we don’t take the chance to visit the Continent now, then it might be years before we have the chance again. Napoleon might talk of peace but I have seen men like him before, and whatever they say, they think only of war. There is a small break in the hostilities. We must make the most of it.’

The light soon began to fade. Although the day had been warm, it was October and the days ended early. Darcy pulled down the blinds in the carriage but Elizabeth, eager to see the sunset, moved to stay his hand. He continued with his work, saying that they would be warmer when the blinds were drawn. There was something in the way he said it, some unusual quality in his voice, that made her unwilling to go against him.

They travelled on in silence and Elizabeth thought, with a vague sense of unease, that this was not what she had expected. She had been looking forward to the journey, thinking it would be full of conversation and laughter, and perhaps the kind of love that marriage brought with it, but her husband seemed preoccupied. He sat with his face turned away from her and she watched him, examining his profile. It was strong, with handsome features, yet there was an air of something she could not quite place. He was the man she had married and yet different, more reserved, and she wondered if it was just because of the tiring nature of the journey or whether he were reverting to his former aloof ways.

Although she could see nothing outside the coach, Elizabeth caught the changing sounds and scents of the world beyond them as they neared the coast. The soft song of blackbirds, robins, and thrushes was replaced by the raucous cry of the gulls, and the smell of grass and flowers was replaced by the sharp tang of salt. It permeated the carriage, finding its way into Elizabeth’s nostrils and onto her lips and tongue.

The carriage, which had been rolling smoothly over muddy roads, began to jerk and jolt as it travelled over cobbles, and the clattering of the wheels added itself to the harsh sound of the seabirds. Impatient to see where they were, Elizabeth released one of the blinds, and her husband made no move to stop her.

The first thing she saw was the black bulk of Dover castle rising over the landscape. She gave a shudder because, in the darkness, it seemed like something huge and malignant, a massive guardian standing watch, but whether it was protecting or imprisoning the town she could not tell. And then she saw the cliffs. They were as white as the bone of a cuttlefish and, in the pale moonlight, they had a pulsating glow. Outlined against them were the skeletons of tall-masted ships which rose and fell with the tide. Their mooring ropes groaned and sighed as they moved, like the whisper of unquiet souls.

Then the carriage turned a corner and everything took on a more cheerful aspect. Ahead of her, Elizabeth could see an inn. There were lights blazing out from the windows and a brightly-painted sign was hanging outside. The coach rolled into the yard, where the lighted torches made it almost as bright as day. There was noise and bustle, and warmth and colour, and Elizabeth laughed at herself for the nameless fear that had gripped her as they drove into the port.

The coachman pulled the horses up and the coach rolled to a smooth halt. There were no delays or frustrations, as there were when she travelled with her family, no time wasted in trying to attract someone’s attention. Instead, as soon as the coach stopped, the horses were attended to, the door was opened, the step was let down, and the Darcys were welcomed obsequiously by the innkeeper. He escorted them into the inn, bowing repeatedly whilst enquiring after their journey and assuring them that they had stopped at the best inn in Dover.

‘There is a fire in the parlour when you are ready to dine,’ he said, ‘and I will have fires lit directly in your rooms. You may rest assured that your every comfort will be attended to.’

Darcy stopped just inside the inn.

‘You go ahead,’ he said to Elizabeth. ‘I have to go down to the harbour and arrange for our passage to France.’

‘Cannot one of the outriders make the arrangements?’ she asked.

‘I would rather do it myself,’ he said.

He made her a bow and went outside, and Elizabeth, wondering again at her husband’s unexpected actions, was shown upstairs by the innkeeper’s wife. The woman threw open the door of a well-appointed apartment and then stood aside deferentially as Elizabeth went inside. The room was bright, with sprigged curtains at the windows and a matching counterpane on the four-poster bed. There was a fireplace in the corner where one of the chambermaids was already lighting the fire, coaxing the wood into life.

The innkeeper’s wife then threw open an interconnecting door to another bedroom. The room was slightly larger and the colours were darker than in the previous room. It had obviously been fitted out for a gentleman, with solid oak furniture and paintings of ships on the walls.

‘Thank you, these will do very well,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Thank you, Ma’am.’ The innkeeper’s wife dropped a curtsey. ‘When would you like to dine?’

‘As soon as my husband returns,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Very good,’ said the woman, and with another curtsey, she withdrew.

Elizabeth lingered in what was to be Darcy’s room. The counterpane had been turned down and she imagined his head on the pillow, with his dark hair showing up against the white bed linen. She was filled with a sudden longing to touch his hair, to feel its texture beneath her fingers, and to inhale the scent of it.

She returned to her own room to find that the chamber maid had already placed a jug of hot water on the washstand. She stripped off her clothes, feeling suddenly travel-stained, and standing in a pretty porcelain bowl, she washed all over, squeezing her sponge so that the water trickled down her soapy body, leaving clear channels in its wake. As the water began to cool, she rinsed herself more efficiently and then she went over to the bed where her maid had laid out her new blue dress, which had been bought especially for her trousseau.

Annie, her lady’s maid, emerged from the dressing room and helped her to dress, dropping her lace-trimmed chemise over her head and then lacing her stays. As Annie pulled the strings tighter, Elizabeth thought how strange it was to be dressed by someone she didn’t know. At Longbourn there had always been her sister Jane to help her, and they had laughed and talked whilst they had dressed for balls; and there had always been Hill to give them more help if needed, to scold and worry them into getting ready more quickly, and to stand back and admire them when they had finished. There had been her mother, too, and Kitty and Mary and Lydia, but here there was no one except Annie, who was new to her, because at home she had had no need of a lady’s maid.

As she finished dressing, pulling on her long white evening gloves, Annie opened her mouth and then closed it again. Then she opened it and wiped her clean hands on her apron in a nervous fashion.

‘Yes, Annie?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘Well, Miss—Ma’am—I was just wondering, Ma’am, if it’s true, that’s all, like the others are saying, are we going out of England, Ma’am? Are we really going to France?’

‘Yes, we are,’ said Elizabeth, stopping in the middle of fastening the button on her glove and looking at Annie. ‘Does that worry you?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Annie uncertainly. ‘But some of them aren’t so sure. There’s bad things happen in France, so they say, very bad things.’

‘Some terrible things have happened in France over the last few years, but they’re are over now,’ said Elizabeth, wishing she could feel as certain as she sounded. ‘If there is any danger, we will not stay.’

Annie nodded, looking as though she only half believed her, then Elizabeth gave her one last reassuring smile and went down to the private parlour where a fire was blazing. The window gave a view of the front of the inn as well as the road beyond and she looked out, hoping to see Mr Darcy when he returned. At last, she grew tired of watching for him and she turned away from the window, only to see that he was already in the room. She felt a frisson of surprise as she wondered how he could have opened the door without her hearing him.

And then all else was forgotten as she saw his appreciative glance and he said, ‘You look beautiful.’

‘Thank you.’

He stepped forward and took her hand and kissed it.

‘Elizabeth, if I seem—preoccupied—it is only because I have a lot to think about at the moment. I will make you happy, I swear.’

‘I know you will,’ she said.

He stroked her cheek, then his hand stilled as the innkeeper entered the room. A look of frustration crossed his face but he dropped her hand and took his place at the table, as she took hers.

‘Did you manage to arrange a passage for us?’ she asked politely as the meal was served.

With the servants coming and going she could not say anything more intimate.

‘Yes, we sail on the morning tide. Are you a good sailor?’ he asked.

Her eyebrows raised.

‘I don’t know. I’ve never been on a ship before.’

‘Then this will be your chance to find out. You will enjoy it, I think. The captain says the sea will be calm tomorrow. He’s a man of some ability and he’s used to my ways. I often sail with him when I cross to the Continent.’

They continued to talk of the journey and their plans for the morrow until at last their meal was done and Elizabeth retired for the night. Her husband said that he must speak to the innkeeper so she went upstairs, anticipating the moment when he would join her.

She undressed with Annie’s help and put on her new nightgown, trimmed with expensive Bruges lace, and then she dismissed her maid.

She was nervous as she thought about all Lydia’s bawdy, soulless tales of married life. Would it be like that for Darcy and her? she wondered.

She thought not.

To help pass the time, she went over to the travelling writing desk she had brought with her and started a letter to Jane.

My dearest Jane,

You will be surprised when I tell you that we are not going to the Lake District after all, we are going to France…

She found it difficult to keep her mind on her letter and she lifted her head, listening for Darcy’s foot on the stair or the click of the interconnecting door, but the inn was silent, save for the murmur of voices coming from below.

She turned back to her letter. She wrote about the journey, about the inn, and about her hopes for the morrow, but still her husband did not come.

…Tell me, Jane, is marriage what you thought it would be?

she wrote.

Does Bingley have strange moods? Does he change his mind rapidly? Does he have caprices? I never thought that Darcy would be like this, with strange quirks and fancies, and such rapid changes of mind, and I never thought he would abandon me on our wedding night, either, but I have been in my room for an hour now, Jane, and I am still alone. Perhaps he is tired after the journey, or perhaps he thinks that I must be tired—unless I have done something to offend him. But no, what could I have done?

She wrote on until the clock struck midnight, and then beyond, until at last she fell asleep in the chair.

Elizabeth was awoken by her maid. She was stiff and sore from spending the night on the chair and she was ashamed that her maid had seen her abandoned, but the woman gave no sign that she had noticed anything unusual. Instead, she busied herself with preparing Elizabeth’s things. An hour later, Elizabeth, somewhat refreshed by highly scented soap and water, and dressed in clean clothes, went downstairs.

Darcy was in the dining room. He looked up when she entered the room and his eyes widened when he saw her, telling her more clearly than words that he found her lovely. He took her hand and kissed it, then led her to the table, but he made no mention of the night before and she could not say anything in front of the servants.

They made a good meal and then set out for the docks. Elizabeth, missing her daily walks, rejected the coach and they went on foot. The day was uncommonly fair. It was October, but it felt more like September in its mild air, brisk soft wind, and bright sun. Everything looked so tranquil, with the shadows pursuing each other over the landscape, that Elizabeth wondered how she could ever have found the castle, the sea, and the cliffs menacing. They were now picturesque, adding charm to the scene before her.

Darcy was affable and their thoughts were in tune when they made a comment on the port or the people or the bustle all around them. There had been rain in the night, and Darcy teased Elizabeth when her skirts dragged through the dirt.

‘Mrs Darcy, are you aware that your petticoat is six inches deep in mud?’ he asked her.

She laughed, recalling the time, almost a year ago to the day, when she had walked to Netherfield because Jane was ill and had arrived looking very bedraggled.

‘Caroline would be horrified!’ she said as she looked down at her muddy hem.

‘She was certainly horrified last year.’

‘What a sight I must have looked! You must have thought me a strange creature, to turn up at the house in all my dirt.’

‘Not at all. It is true that I thought it unnecessary for you to have walked all that way to see your sister when she had nothing but a trifling cold—yes, I really was so pompous, I must admit it—but your eyes, I distinctly remember, had been brightened by the exercise. In fact, your whole face was glowing. I don’t think I had ever seen anyone looking more lovely. I believe it was from that date I started to feel myself in some danger from you, although of course I did not admit it to myself at the time.’

‘You are determined, I see, to concentrate on my bright eyes instead of my wild appearance!’

‘Naturally! Your good qualities are under my protection, if you remember, and I have your permission to exaggerate them as much as possible.’

She laughed, remembering their exchange in the summer.

‘But if you would like to avoid the dirt in the future, there is a way to do so, if you are willing. If you would let me buy you a horse, we could ride and spare your gowns,’ said Darcy. He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I have always wondered why you don’t ride. Jane doesn’t have an aversion to horses; I remember her riding to Netherfield, but I have never seen you on horseback.’

‘I don’t have an aversion to horses, either, but riding takes so long. First of all, I have to ask for the horse and then it has to be made ready—if Papa can spare it, that is—and then it walks so slowly that I am tempted to jump off and carry it instead of letting it carry me.’

‘Ah, I see, you don’t have any objection to riding, just to inconvenience.’

‘Mr Darcy, are you teasing me? I do hope so. Otherwise, I must appear sadly spoilt.’

‘Never that,’ he said. ‘I am glad you do not object to riding. I will buy you a horse in Paris and you will see what a difference it makes to have a well-chosen mare with good paces instead of a farm horse. You will also see what a difference it makes to have an animal that is ready to go when you are, instead of one for which you have to wait; and one that can actually walk faster on its four legs than you can on your own two!’

‘Will there be anywhere to ride?’

‘Of course. What do you think the Parisians do?’ he asked her teasingly.

‘I suppose they must have somewhere to ride, it is true. Very well, you may buy me a mare and I will endeavour to find that I prefer riding to walking.’

‘But you will not be afraid to tell me if you do not.’

‘No. You know me too well to doubt that I will abuse the exercise if I have a mind to do so.’

He drew her hand through his arm and they walked on, going down the street to the harbour. It was a busy scene. There was noise and bustle everywhere as ships were loaded and unloaded, and carts brought cargo to and from the docks. Sailors lounged about if they had no ship, or shouted to each other as they worked if they were due to sail.

‘Which is our ship?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘That one,’ said Darcy, indicating a fine sailing ship. ‘The Mary Rose.’

The Mary Rose bobbed on the water, her sails furled and her rope tied securely to the mooring post. All around her was a scene of activity. Darcy’s servants were seeing to the safety of the coach, which was being hoisted on board, and the grooms were leading the horses up the gangplank and onto the ship. The animals were restive but the grooms spoke to them calmly and the animals traversed the narrow plank without mishap. Their possessions followed, the trunks being carried on board by stocky sailors, who carried them as though they were nothing.

Finally, when all was safely stowed, the Darcy entourage walked up the gangplank, all except one of the outriders who, saying that France was a heathen country, refused to go. He was paid off without delay, for the tide was ready to turn.

One of the sailors approached and offered to help Elizabeth board the ship, but she only laughed and walked confidently up the gangplank, laughing as it jostled and jolted beneath her feet. Darcy followed her and they were welcomed on board by the captain.

‘It’s a good day for sailing,’ he said. ‘We’ll have you across the channel in no time. Have you made the crossing before, Mrs Darcy?’

‘No, never,’ said Elizabeth.

‘There is nothing like being at sea. I am sure you will find it interesting.’

She looked around the deck, seeing coiled ropes and all the appurtenances of sailing, then noticed the cannon.

‘Is it usual for a packet ship to be armed?’ she asked with some apprehension.

‘It is not uncommon in these troubled times,’ he said. ‘A few modifications to the ship and a few skilled crew can make all the difference to a ship’s safety. As often as not, the very sight of them keeps everyone safe.’

‘But I thought we were at peace,’ said Elizabeth.

‘And so we are, but there’s never any telling when a foreign captain might get it into his head to forget his orders, and then there are always privateers,’ said the captain. ‘But don’t you worry. We’re not likely to meet with any trouble on our voyage. I’ll have you in France before you know it.’

‘Are there any other passengers?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘No, just you,’ said the captain. ‘I’ve had a cabin made ready for you. It has everything you’ll need on the voyage.’

The mate appeared and the Darcys followed him down to the cabin. Elizabeth found it small and cramped, although Darcy told her it was spacious by ships’ standards. It had a table and two chairs as well as two bunks, and Elizabeth was surprised to see that the furniture was all nailed down.

‘In case of storms,’ said Darcy. ‘It prevents everything from moving around.’

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully.

She did not stay below deck for long. Although the cabin was well equipped, the air was stuffy and Elizabeth knew she would be happier out in the open. They went on deck and watched the ship set sail, with the rope being cast off and the sails unfurled. The white canvas billowed out in the wind and drove the ship forward.

It was exhilarating for Elizabeth to feel the wind in her face, and she laughed as it whipped her hair free of its chignon. Darcy smiled and stroked it back, his finger tracing a searing arc across her cheek.

At his touch, the world disappeared and she was held, mesmerised, looking into his eyes. Nothing and no one else mattered. Nothing else seemed to exist.

It was only when one of the sailors bumped into her that she came out of her trance. The sailor apologised, but as she became more aware of her surroundings again, Elizabeth could see that she was in the way. She stood aside and leaned over the rail, feeling the salt spray in her face as it was thrown up by the ship, which cut its way through the waves. Darcy stood next to her, his hand resting lightly in the small of her back.

‘Have you been to France many times?’ she asked him.

‘Yes, I have; many, many times.’

There was something in his voice she did not understand and she glanced at him to find that he was looking unseeingly into the distance.

‘Were things very terrible?’ she asked, wondering what he was thinking about.

‘No, on the contrary. I haven’t been to France for some years,’ he explained. ‘When I last visited the country it was before the revolution.’

‘You must have been little more than a child, then,’ she said.

‘I was certainly younger than I am now,’ he agreed. Then, drawing his thoughts back to the present, he said, ‘You are a good sailor.’

‘Yes, I believe I am,’ said Elizabeth, ‘at least today, when the weather is fine. Although I am not very steady on my feet!’

‘It takes time to get used to the movement,’ he said. ‘Have you never been on the water at all, not even on a pleasure boat?’

‘No, we seldom went to the seaside. Mama always wanted to go. She talked constantly of Lyme and Brighton and Cromer when I was younger, but Papa was always content to stay at home. The furthest she could ever persuade him to go was to London, to visit my Aunt Gardiner and her family, except on one occasion when she told him that her nerves would benefit from some sea air.’

‘And did they?’

‘No, which is why he never took us again. He said that she had promised him once that her nerves would benefit but that it had ended in nothing and that he would not go on such a fool’s errand again!’

‘And did you never want to visit a resort?’

‘I never thought about it. There was always something new to do or see at home, so much change in the people around me, that I never thought to pine for something else. But now I think I would like to go to the seaside again. Perhaps we could all go to Ramsgate, if it would not remind Georgiana too much of her time with Wickham.’

‘I think it would be better not to go to Ramsgate, but there are plenty of other resorts we can visit.’

He told her of the places he had been to and then they turned their attention to the ships they saw around them. Some were naval vessels, some were merchantmen, and some were packet ships; some were going to England and some were going to France; some, indeed, were going further afield, being in the service of the East India Company.

When they were about halfway to France, Darcy went below to make sure that the horses were comfortable and not too distressed by the voyage, and to give instructions for their disembarkation when they should land. Elizabeth remained on deck, watching the other ships and from time to time seeing nothing but the ocean as the seas filled and emptied around her.

It was during one of these lulls that she saw a solitary sail on the horizon. She watched it lazily, but as it drew nearer, she became aware of a change in the atmosphere and she felt a tension amongst the sailors. They began to look up from their work and to shade their eyes with their hands, turning in the direction of the vessel.

‘What is it?’ asked Elizabeth. ‘Is it a French vessel?’

‘It’s trouble,’ said the mate.

‘Aye,’ said one of the sailors. ‘Privateers. Pirates.’

Elizabeth watched the ship with mounting alarm. It was closing fast and she could already see the figures of people on deck. They became more distinct as the ship grew closer, changing from shapeless blobs to well-defined forms.

A flurry of activity broke out all around her as the mate gave orders and the sailors swarmed up the rigging, furling and unfurling sails to try and bring the ship about. But it was no use; they could not turn or run quickly enough, the pirates were almost upon them. Elizabeth was afraid. She backed away from the side of the ship, keeping her eyes on the pirates and hoping for a change in the wind or a sudden calm, anything that would keep their ship from hers. But still it came on. She could see the pirates’ faces now, full of savage glee.

She turned to go down to the cabin and found herself walking into her husband. He had come back on deck again with the captain, and he put his arm around her. She felt an unusual strength emanating from him and a sense of raw power.

‘Darcy!’ she said thankfully, taking refuge in his nearness. ‘The pirates…’ she said, looking again at the fast approaching ship with its crew of murderous men.

And then suddenly, she saw the pirates go pale and their expressions changed. Their look of triumph gave way to one of fear and their anxious mutterings could be heard as they started to back away from the rail. Then they broke apart and began swarming up the rigging whilst their captain hurled abuse at them. The ship veered away, and then it turned and ran, disappearing into the distance as quickly as it had appeared.

She stood watching the empty water where it had been for a few seconds.

‘What happened?’ she asked the mate as she felt her pulse begin to return to normal.

‘I don’t rightly know,’ the mate answered her with a frown.

‘I do,’ muttered one of the sailors darkly. ‘There’s something on board that frightens them. And there’s not a lot will frighten men like that.’

‘Aye, our cannon,’ said the captain with satisfaction.

Elizabeth looked to the side of the deck where the small cannon had been placed, but the sailors still muttered and one of them said something that sounded like albatross.

‘Albatross?’ said the mate, and spat.

‘You will have to excuse him, Mrs Darcy,’ said the captain apologetically. ‘My men are a good lot but they don’t have drawing-room manners.’

‘What did he mean by albatross?’ asked Elizabeth.

The captain shook his head.

‘Sailors are a superstitious lot, and as soon as the least little thing goes wrong, they must find a reason for it. They say it is bad luck to shoot an albatross, and so, when something strange occurs, of course it must be because someone on board has shot one of the birds. That is, of course, a far more reasonable explanation than that the pirates were afraid of our guns!’

Elizabeth smiled, but the air of unease lingered. As the captain escorted them below, having invited them to take luncheon in his cabin, there were still mutterings amongst the crew. Some of the mutterings were in English and some were in a mixture of other European tongues. One phrase seemed to rise out of the others and one of the sailors asked another, ‘What does he say?’

‘Old one,’ said the sailor sullenly.

The captain looked startled, but then said, ‘Old one!’ with a laugh. ‘Why, there is nothing old about our cannons, or our ship either! Both are new. Well, new in naval terms, Mrs Darcy, and certainly new enough to scare away any other malcontents who should happen to cross our bows.’

They went below. A simple meal had been laid out on the captain’s table and soon the three of them were eating. Darcy was content to listen to the captain instead of saying very much himself and Elizabeth was content to watch him. Her eyes were drawn to his fingers, and she watched them as he carefully peeled an orange. He took advantage of the captain leaving the table for a few seconds and put the orange on her plate. She broke it in two, separating the soft segments, then gave half back to him.

‘We’ll soon be there now,’ said the captain as their meal at last drew to an end. ‘It’s been a pleasure having you on board, Mrs Darcy. Your husband I’ve transported on many occasions. But I hope I will have the pleasure of carrying you again. You did not find your first trip too unpleasant, I hope? I assure you that our little bit of trouble was unusual and is not likely to happen again.’

‘I am not so easily frightened,’ said Elizabeth, earning an admiring look from her husband. ‘I think I would be more alarmed by a rough crossing!’

‘Aye, that can be unpleasant, but you have the look of a sailor about you, Mrs Darcy. I’ll wager you’d find your sea legs whatever the weather.’

Elizabeth glanced at the porthole, which allowed daylight into the cabin, and through it she found that she could see the dim and distant outline of land.

‘Is that France?’ she asked, going over to the porthole to look.

‘Aye, it is,’ said the captain, rising to his feet as soon as Elizabeth rose. ‘Will you be staying long?’

‘For a few weeks, perhaps,’ said Darcy, rising also.

‘There are many fine sights to be seen. I hope you enjoy them,’ said the captain with a bow.

He had a few things he wished to discuss with Darcy, and Elizabeth took the opportunity to return to her cabin where she tidied her hair, which had been blown about by the wind, before going on deck again. Darcy was already there. He put his arm protectively round her as the shoreline drew gradually closer, until the buildings and then the people on shore could be discerned.

‘Is it far to Paris?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘It will take us several days to get there,’ said Darcy. ‘We will travel in easy stages, seeing the sights on the way. There is a great deal I have to show you.’

The ship eased its way into the harbour and the Darcys disembarked.

As she set foot for the first time on French soil, Elizabeth looked about her with interest and wondered what the next few weeks would bring.