‘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 o
f 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.
Mr. Darcy, Vampyre Page 3
