Chapter Nine
Bella stole a glance at the man walking beside her.
Captain Harwood had offered his arm very properly but now held himself stiffly, appearing to keep as much distance between them as possible while still providing support.
He was tall, taller than her by a full head, and leanly built with long arms and legs.
He appeared to have a fine figure beneath his brown greatcoat, and his face was finely chiselled, with vivid blue-green eyes that seemed almost the same colour as the sea lapping against the town.
Everything about him was restrained and taut, other than his wheat-coloured hair, which Bella suspected most young ladies of her acquaintance would have given their right arms for.
It was a little too long to be fashionable, curling along his collar and pushed roughly back from his face in a way that suggested he ran his hands through it often.
He was handsome, to be sure, but clearly unhappy about having to squire Bella and Clara about town. There was a downward tilt to his lips that made Bella feel unreasonably annoyed. The sooner she could reach her aunt Lydia's house, the better.
Captain Harwood led them away from the busiest part of the town and along the waterfront towards an area he told them was called Greenbank.
The crowds gradually thinned, although the harbour remained constantly in view beside them, crowded with ships and smaller craft moving between the shore and the great vessels lying further out.
Eventually they turned away from the water and began climbing.
Bella was soon glad Captain Harwood had offered his arm.
The road rose sharply from the harbour, and after an entire afternoon spent trudging about Falmouth her legs were beginning to object strongly to the exercise.
"Not much farther," he said, glancing down at her.
"I am perfectly capable of walking up a hill, Captain."
A faint smirk touched his lips, which irritated her more than the frown had done.
They continued upwards until the road opened onto Dunstanville Terrace, where a row of handsome houses stood above the harbour.
They were substantial without being grand, their pale fronts turned towards the water and their tall sash windows commanding a magnificent view across the bay.
Beyond the rooftops below, the late afternoon sun glittered over the water and caught against the sails of the ships at anchor.
Captain Harwood slowed before one of the smaller houses towards the end of the terrace.
It was three storeys high and painted a warm, weathered cream, with dark green shutters and a slate roof.
A short flight of granite steps led to a black-painted door beneath a simple fanlight, while a narrow passage at one side appeared to lead towards a garden at the rear.
There was nothing particularly remarkable about the house itself, but the view was extraordinary.
From the upper windows Aunt Lydia must be able to see the whole harbour.
"Here we are, ladies," Captain Harwood said, leading Bella to the front door and lifting the knocker to give three sharp raps.
Bella stared at the house. After five days of imagining the moment she would finally reach her aunt, a sudden wave of apprehension washed over her.
It was incredibly rude to appear on someone's doorstep unannounced, even if they were family, and although this was indeed her aunt Lydia, Bella had not seen her for many years.
The woman might not even recognise her now that she was fully grown.
She dropped Captain Harwood's arm and began fiddling nervously with the material at the front of her dress.
The door opened and a maid appeared, looking rather surprised to find the small group crowded onto the doorstep.
"Captain Harwood," she said, dipping into a curtsey.
"Good afternoon. I have brought Mrs Bennet some visitors."
The maid glanced from Bella to Clara and, after the smallest pause, said, "Of course, sir. If you would wait here, I shall see if Mrs Bennet is at home."
She disappeared into the depths of the house, leaving Bella to endure a silence that seemed to stretch on for an age.
She had almost convinced herself that Aunt Lydia would refuse to see them when the maid hurried back and bade them follow her inside.
They entered through a large, bright hallway.
The walls were freshly painted white and crammed with pictures, many of them of the sea or boats bobbing on the water.
Every size and scale and quality of picture imaginable was displayed, from amateurish watercolours to glorious seascapes.
The maid hurried them past the vast collection and led them into a parlour, where three women sat crowded around a small tea table.
The room was well appointed and comfortable, but undeniably feminine.
Crocheted rugs had been thrown rather haphazardly over the backs of chairs, the mantelpiece was lined with pretty trinkets and an embroidery box appeared to be overflowing with ribbons.
Novels were stacked in a precarious tower by an armchair upholstered in pretty chintz fabric.
There was a cosy, domestic clutter to the space, but it was the view that caught Bella's attention.
The large windows framed the harbour below and the great sweep of blue water punctuated with white foam beyond it.
"Captain Harwood and his friends, Mrs Bennet," the maid announced in a stilted voice before bobbing another curtsey and scurrying away.
A tall blonde woman who was still exceptionally pretty, with dancing grey eyes and a frothy yellow-coloured gown, rose immediately. "Captain Harwood! What a surprise and a delight. I have not seen you in some time, and you have brought guests. How delightful."
"Mrs Bennet." He bowed. "I have brought a relative today rather than a guest."
"Oh!" Her eyes flew to Bella and then immediately back to George. "Is this your sister? Or a niece? Or perhaps you are engaged, Captain Harwood? How exciting. We must all have tea. Pray introduce me."
"You misunderstand me, madam," he said, that irritating smirk once again crossing his fine features. "I have brought one of your relatives. This is Miss Bennet."
"Aunt Lydia," Bella said in a small voice. "It is Bella. I know you have not seen me for some time. And I… well I thought it would be pleasant to visit," she finished weakly.
"Bella? Little Bella?" Her aunt practically leapt over the crush of furniture to reach her and took both of Bella's hands in hers.
"Let me look at you. Of course you are Bella!
You look so like your papa, but I can see much of Lizzie in you too.
Oh, this is a delight." She looked past her towards Clara. "And this must be your maid?"
"Yes. This is Clara."
"Mrs Bennet," Clara said, bobbing a curtsey.
"Clara, the kitchen is further back and down the stairs to the right. Tell Cook that I sent you and she will ensure you have a hot meal and something good to drink."
Clara remained where she was, looking wide-eyed at Bella and clearly uncertain whether she ought to abandon her to the strange little group. Bella gave her a small nod, and after another curtsey Clara disappeared into the hallway.
"But you are here!" Aunt Lydia exclaimed, turning back to Bella. "And Harwood found you. How fortunate. Is Lizzie with you? Or your papa? Any of your sisters? Perhaps dear Jane?"
"No," Bella said, giving a meaningful glance towards Captain Harwood and then towards the two other women, who were peering at her over the back of the settee with great interest. "I travelled with Clara on a private matter. May I speak to you alone?"
Captain Harwood took the cue at once. "I shall leave you to your family business. Mrs Bennet. Miss Bennet. Mrs Gossling. Miss Blaine."
With a bow, he turned and took his leave. Bella watched him disappear through the doorway and felt herself relax by a small degree.
"Oh, my dear, whatever is going on?" Aunt Lydia said. "You must come and sit. I shall call for tea."
She crossed to ring the bell in the corner of the room before gesturing towards the two women on the settee. "And this is dear Hattie and Amelia. You may say anything you wish to say to me in front of them. They are my dearest friends in the world and will not breathe a word to anyone."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, dear," said the smaller and plumper of the two women.
"Yes, indeed," said the taller, more slender woman, who was dressed in a fabulous purple concoction the likes of which Bella had never seen.
She appeared to be wearing some sort of turban, shot through with silver thread, but Bella did not have time to meditate on the fashion choices of her aunt's guests.
Aunt Lydia caught hold of her hand, pulled her towards the nearest chair and practically pushed her into it. "Now," she said, sitting opposite her with her eyes shining. "Tell me everything."
Bella told her story in fits and starts, and her small audience allowed her to run on uninterrupted, other than the occasional gasp of surprise or "Oh, dear me," from Aunt Lydia.
When she finally came to the end of her tale, Bella clasped her hands in her lap and kept her eyes downcast, unable to bear what the response might be.
What if Aunt Lydia threw her out? Or put her on the first carriage back north? It would all have been for naught.
Eventually, Aunt Lydia jumped to her feet and began pacing up and down the room.
"Oh, Lizzie will have your guts for garters, and she will most likely have mine too.
And your papa! Oh, Mr Darcy must be going out of his mind.
I suspect he has men searching the whole of Derbyshire.
" She stopped and pressed a hand to her chest. "Oh, my dear Bella, you will have caused so much worry.
We must send an express at once to let them know that you are here and well.
Safely with me. Though your papa may not regard that state of affairs as all that safe. "
She looked at Bella with wide-eyed bewilderment. "Why would you do it? It is lovely to see you, of course, my dear, but I am sure we could have arranged some way of meeting by rather more traditional means."
"I had to escape." Bella twisted her hands together.
"I do not know how to explain it. It felt as though there was a mighty pressure pushing down on me, and if I did not take myself away, if I did not find my own sort of adventure, then I would simply be swallowed up by Pemberley and all its responsibilities.
I love my mother and father and my sisters more than anything on this earth.
I just needed a little something that was only for me. "
"Well, I suppose I can understand that," said Aunt Lydia, her expression softening.
"But I know better than most that taking a foolish action in response to the emotion of the moment can lead to very dark consequences.
" Her face changed then, some of the liveliness leaving it.
"You are safe and well, and we must give thanks for that.
But, Bella, anything could have happened to you travelling alone.
You must have encountered some..." She stopped and shook her head firmly.
"No. I do not wish to know. Just tell me you are well.
You are uninjured and unmolested and you are well. "
"I am well," Bella said. "And I know my actions have been irrational.
I know Mama and Papa will be furious." She hesitated.
"I only hoped you might understand. My family have told me very little about you, really, but I came to believe that you were a woman who did things your own way.
I thought perhaps..." She faltered, suddenly embarrassed by how childish it all sounded.
"I do not know what I thought. I suppose I believed that if I could get to you, I might understand a little more of the world and find some of the freedom I have been craving. "
"Well, I dare say we can show you a little of Falmouth at least," said the smaller, rounder woman, whom Bella had now come to understand was Miss Hattie Blaine, with a cackle of laughter that seemed quite at odds with her small frame. "It is freedom of a sort, I suppose."
"Particularly if you enjoy the smell of fish," added Mrs Amelia Gossling, the taller of the two, gleefully.
Aunt Lydia waved a hand distractedly in the direction of her friends.
"Yes, yes, of course. But first we must sort out somewhere for you to sleep.
And thank goodness you had that girl with you.
She looks as though she knows what she is about, at least." She frowned.
"I have not had anyone in the guest rooms for an age. They are probably as dusty as a tomb!"
At that moment, the maid entered carrying a tray loaded with tea things.
"Set it down, Mary, and have the blue room aired and prepared for my niece, Miss Bella Dar..."
"Bennet," Bella interrupted quickly. "Miss Bella Bennet."
Aunt Lydia looked at her, wide-eyed. "Very well, then.
Miss Bella Bennet is come to stay. And we shall also need a room made ready for her maid.
I believe there is a chamber in the servants' quarters after Sally's departure.
Please make sure everything is comfortable for our guests, and tell Cook there will be another to dine, although I daresay she has probably worked that out for herself. "
Mary bobbed a curtsey and departed.
As she left the room, Lydia lifted her hand to her mouth and added in something of a stage whisper, "And before you look puzzled, I am Mrs Bennet these days.I have left both Wickham the man and Wickham the name long behind me.”
Her aunt clapped her hands together as if signalling an end to the topic. "Oh, look at me. I scarcely know what to do first. I must gather my writing things immediately and send word to Lizzie, and then we shall talk more, my dear. I suppose we have a great deal to catch up on."