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.