Page 13 of Bella Darcy is on the Run

"My aunt is not ill, nor is she expecting me. I am going to Falmouth because I need to see her, but nobody knows that I am travelling there." Bella twisted her fingers together in her lap. "I should have told you before we left Ashbourne. You agreed to come with me because you believed I was making an ordinary journey to visit a relative, and it is becoming increasingly obvious that I am completely out of my depth."

Clara lowered her hand and regarded her thoughtfully. "Your family don't know you've gone, do they, miss?"

Clara gave a small nod, as though this confirmed something she had already suspected. Bella braced herself for reproach, but none came.

"I am not running away," she added, uncertain if that information was helpful.

Clara's eyebrows rose but she did not answer immediately. She collected up the pins from the counterpane and set them on the washstand, then sat down on the opposite bed with her hands folded in her lap. "Is there a gentleman involved, someone you're runnin' off to meet?"

"There most certainly is not." Bella felt her face heat.

Clara looked relieved. "That's something, then."

Bella felt defensive. She may have done something rash, but she was not a wanton. "Why would you assume there was?"

"Because there usually is when a young woman disappears without tellin' her family."

Bella thought of the establishment in Bristol and decided she probably did not want to know how many young women Clara had seen disappearing after unsuitable gentlemen.

"I am going to see my aunt because I need some distance from my family," Bella said. "That is all."

Clara's eyes widened. "Did they beat you, miss?"

"No."

"Were they cruel to you?"

"No."

Clara frowned, clearly searching for another explanation. "Are they tryin' to marry you off to some crusty old fella?"

"No," said Bella, realising that put that way, her own reasons did sound rather feeble.

Clara studied her for a moment longer before shrugging. "Well, you should've told me, miss. But you've told me now."

Bella waited, uncertain whether that was the whole of her answer. "And?"

"And I'm still comin'."

Bella felt some of the tightness in her chest ease. "You are quite certain?"

"Certain enough. Though if we're doin' this, you might let me do a bit more of the talkin' when strange men start asking where we're headed."

Bella could not help smiling. She had left Pemberley determined to prove that she could manage perfectly well without her parents arranging every detail of her life, and it was mildly mortifying to discover, less than two days later, that she was already extremely grateful for a maid she had known barely a day. Perhaps there was a difference between doing things for oneself and insisting on doing absolutely everything alone.

It sounded like something Papa would say. The thought brought a sudden ache of homesickness and Bella reached instinctively for the locket at her throat. She hoped he was not too angry with her. Worse, she hoped he was not afraid for her.

She could not think about that now. She had Clara, and they had overcome any challenges they had faced so far. Tomorrow they would continue south, together.

Chapter Eight

Bella and Clara arrived in Falmouth on the afternoon of the fifth day of her flight from Pemberley. They had endured uncomfortable and cramped conditions, but nowhere had approached the squalor or atmosphere of The Crown, for which Bella was eternally grateful. She had learnt to speak only in short, clipped, informative sentences and allow Clara to take the lead in any negotiations. The arrangement had served them well and they had travelled peaceably, if not comfortably.

For the last two miles, their hired carriage had been making an ominous squeaking sound and Bella was relieved when they finally passed through Penryn and the road began to rise towards Falmouth. The countryside had changed during the last day of their journey. The broad fields and gentle hills had given way to steeper lanes bordered by high banks and thick hedges, with glimpses of deep green valleys appearing whenever the road climbed. There was something different in the air too, a freshness Bella could not place until the carriage crested another rise and the land suddenly opened before them, revealing a wide vista.

She sat forward so quickly that her bonnet struck the edge of the window. Below them, Falmouth seemed to tumble towards the water. Houses crowded one above another on the sloping ground, their pale walls and dark roofs broken here and there by church towers and chimneys, while beyond them stretched the greatest expanse of water Bella had ever seen. The harbour widened between long green hills, the opposite shore rising in wooded slopes before falling away towards rocky points and little inlets. Beyond the shelter of the bay, she caught a narrow glimpse of open sea sparkling like a sapphire beneath the afternoon sun.

But it was the ships that held her attention. There were more than she could count. Masts rose beyond the rooftops like a winter forest stripped of its leaves, great vessels lay at anchor further out, while smaller boats moved constantly between them and the shore. White sails caught the light, gulls wheeled overhead and even from this distance she could see the bustle along the quays below. After five days of dusty roads and coaching yards, Falmouth was glorious.