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.

Chapter 3

My dearest Jane,

It is almost a week since I wrote to you last, and indeed I have been very negligent for I have forgotten to post my last letter to you. Never mind, I will post them both together and you will have the pleasure of two letters at once; or, more likely, you will receive one after the other. The post from the Continent is not very reliable, I hear.

We are now established in Paris, and it is the most beautiful city. I was apprehensive about coming here at first, but my fears were unfounded. The city is unexpectedly civilised and the French, so far, seem friendly. We have had some trouble with the food, which is laced with garlic, and several of the servants have been ill; indeed one of our footmen has left us, saying that he will be poisoned here if he stays any longer. Fortunately, he has not been difficult to replace. My maid refuses to eat anything except the bread and cheese she buys at the market. I must confess, I have joined her in this simple repast on more than one occasion. Darcy too eats very little here. But that is a small matter. The shops are elegant and numerous, and there are splendours to be seen everywhere. My dear Darcy has a wide circle of friends and relatives, and I pity poor Mama for telling him that we were able to dine with four and twenty families in Hertfordshire, for I must already have met a hundred of his friends. Last night we went to a soirée and tonight we are to go to a salon given by one of Darcy’s cousins. Does that not sound grand? Perhaps I will start a fashion for salons when I return home. You and I can hold them, Jane, and be the most fashionable women in England!

How are you finding London? Are you and your dear Mr Bingley happy? I am happy with my Darcy, and yet, Jane, he has still not visited me in my bedchamber and I do not know why. I wish you were here, then I would have someone to talk to. The people here are all very welcoming, but they are strangers, and I cannot say the things to them that I could say to you.

Write to me as soon as you can at the address below.

Your affectionate sister,

Elizabeth

She addressed the letter and gave it to one of the footmen to post, together with the letter she had written in Dover, then went upstairs to dress. As she did so, she was conscious of the gulf between her old and new lives. Her experiences of Paris had, for the first time, shown her how truly different Darcy’s life was from her own. Before their marriage, she had seen him at Pemberley with his sister, at Rosings with his aunt, and at Netherfield with Bingley, but she had never seen him in society. Now, however, it was very different.