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.