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.

She thought of Lady Catherine’s visit to Longbourn a few short weeks before, when Lady Catherine had tried to dissuade her from marrying Darcy by saying that she would be censured, slighted, and despised by everyone connected with him, and that the alliance would be a disgrace; that Elizabeth herself, if she were wise, would not wish to quit the sphere in which she had been brought up. To which Elizabeth had replied angrily that, in marrying him, she should not consider herself as quitting her sphere, because Darcy was a gentleman and she herself was a gentleman’s daughter.

And that had been true. But only in Paris had she realised how wide was the gulf between a gentleman’s daughter from a country manor house and a gentleman of Darcy’s standing. The people he knew in Paris were quite unlike the country gentry of England. They were beautiful and mesmerising in a way she had never encountered before. The women undulated, instead of walked, across the rooms with the sinuous beauty of snakes, and the men were scarcely any less seductive. They spoke to her in low voices, holding her hand lingeringly and gazing into her eyes with an intensity which at once attracted and repulsed her.

Nevertheless, she liked Paris, and by the time she arrived at the salon, she was ready to enjoy herself.

The house was insignificant from the outside. It was situated on a dirty street and had a narrow, plain frontage, but once inside everything changed. The hall was high ceilinged and carpeted in thick scarlet, and a grand staircase swept upstairs to the first floor. It was crowded with people, all wearing the strange new fashions of the Parisians. Gone were the elaborate styles of the pre-revolutionary years, with wide hooped skirts and towering wigs. Such signs of wealth had been discarded in fear, and simplicity was the order of the day. The men wore their hair long, falling over the high collars of their coats, and at their necks they wore cravats. Beneath their coats they wore tightly fitting knee breeches. The women wore gowns with high waists and slender skirts, made of a material so fine that it was almost sheer.

There was a noise of conversation as the Darcys began to climb the stair. One or two people raised quizzing glasses so they could stare at Elizabeth. She felt conscious that her dress was English and appeared staid by the side of the Parisian finery. The fabric was sturdier and the style less bare.

Darcy introduced her to some of the people and they welcomed her to Paris, but it was not the warm welcome of Hertfordshire; it was an altogether more appraising greeting.

Elizabeth and Darcy made their way to the top of the stairs where they waited to be announced.

The doors leading to the drawing room had been removed and the opening had been shaped into an oriental arch. It framed the hostess so perfectly that Elizabeth suspected it was deliberate. Mme Rousel, reclining on a chaise longue, was like a living portrait. Her dark hair was piled high on her head and secured by a long mother-of-pearl pin, from which curls spilled artistically round her sculptured features and fell across her bare shoulders. Her dress was cut low, with the small frills which passed for sleeves falling off her shoulders before merging with a delicate matching frill at her neck. The sheer fabric of her skirt was arranged around her in folds that were reminiscent of Greek statuary, and on her feet she wore golden sandals. A dark red shawl was draped across her knees, flowing over the gold upholstery of the chaise longue in an apparently casual arrangement. But every fold was so perfect that its placement could only be the result of artifice and not the negligence it was intended to convey. Elizabeth realised that that was why she felt uncomfortable: because the whole salon, from the people to the clothes to the furniture, was the result of artifice, a carefully arranged surface which shone like the sea on a summer’s day but disguised whatever truly lay beneath.

The Darcys were announced. At the name, many of the people already in the drawing room turned round. Even here in Paris, the name of Darcy was well known. They stared openly, in a way the English would not have done, with a boldness that was unsettling.

They went forward and Mme Rousel, Darcy’s cousin, welcomed them.

‘At last, Darcy, I was wondering when you would pay me a visit. It is many years since I have seen you.’

‘It has not been easy to visit France,’ he said.

‘For one of our kind it is always easy,’ she said reprovingly. ‘But you are here now, and that is all that counts.’

She held out her hand, with its long white fingers covered in rings, and he kissed it. She then withdrew it and placed it precisely in her lap, exactly as it had been before.

‘So you are Elizabeth,’ she said. ‘You must be very special to have won Darcy’s affections. I never thought he would marry. The news has taken many of us by surprise.’ She looked at Elizabeth and then at Darcy and then back again. Her expression was thoughtful. Then she bowed slightly to Elizabeth with a small incline of her head before wishing them joy of her salon.

‘You will find many old friends here and some new ones, too,’ she said to Darcy.

Darcy and Elizabeth moved on into the large drawing room so that Mme Rousel could greet her next guests.