It was an easterly sky, and as they reached Falmouth the sun was setting like a Chinese lantern, swollen and crimson and monstrous and decorated with ridges of curly cloud. The town was a gray smudge climbing the edge of the bay.
As they went down the hill, Andrew said, “Your last letter left all to me, my dear; so I trust what I have done you’ll find to your liking.”
“I’m willing to do whatever you say.”
“The wedding is set for eleven tomorrow—at the church of King Charles the Martyr. I took a license from Parson Freakes yesterday morning. Just my old landlady and Captain Brigg will be there as witnesses. It will be as quiet as ever possible.”
“Thank you.”
“As for tonight, I had thought at first the best would be to take a room at one of the inns. But as I went around, they all seemed too shoddy to house you.”
“I shall not mind.”
“I misliked the thought of you being there alone with perhaps noisy and drunken men about.” His blue eyes met hers. “It wasn’t right.”
She flushed. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”
“So, instead, I’d like you to go to your new home, where Mrs. Stevens will be there to see to your needs. I’ll sleep in my ship.”
She said, “Forgive me if I seem listless… It isn’t that at all. It’s only the wrench of leaving the things I’ve loved so long.”
“My dear, I know how you must feel. But we have a week before I need sail. I believe it will all seem different to you before I go.”
Another silence fell. “Francis is unpredictable,” she said suddenly. “In some ways, though I shall miss them so much, I wish we were further than a score of miles. It is within too-easy riding distance of some quarrelsome impulse.”
“If he comes I will soon cool it for him.”
“I know, Andrew. But that is above all what I don’t want.”
He smiled slightly. “I was very patient at the Assembly. At need I can be patient again.”
Seagulls were flying and crying. The smell of the sea was different from home, tanged with salt and seaweed and fish. The sun set before they reached the narrow main street, and the harbor was brimming with the limpid colors of the afterglow.
People, she thought, stared at them. No doubt he was a well-known figure in the town. Would the prejudice be very strong against him? If any remained, then it was her task to break it down. There could clearly be none against her.
She glanced sidelong at him, and the thought came into her head that they had met not three dozen times in all their lives. Had she things to face that she knew nothing of? Well, if they loved each other there was no other consideration big enough to stand beside it.
They stopped and he helped her down and they went into the porticoed house. Mrs. Stevens was at the door and greeted Verity pleasantly enough, though not without a trace of speculation and jealousy.
Verity was shown the dining room and kitchen on the first floor, the graceful parlor and bedroom on the second, the two attic bedrooms above, which were for the children when they were home, children she had never seen. Esther, sixteen, was being educated by relatives; James, fifteen, a midshipman in the navy. Verity had had so much opposition to face at home that she had hardly yet had time to consider the opposition she might find there.
Back in the parlor Andrew was standing looking out across the glimmering colors of the harbor. He turned as she came and stood beside him at the window. He took her hand. The gesture brought comfort.
“Which is your ship, Andrew?”
“She’s well back from here, in St. Just’s Pool. The tallest of the three. I doubt if you can make her out in this light.”
“Oh, yes, she looks beautiful. Can I see over her sometime?”
“Tomorrow if you wish.” She suddenly felt his happiness.
“Verity, I’ll go now. I have asked Mrs. Stevens to serve your supper as soon as she can. You’ll be tired from your ride and will not mind being quiet.”
“Can you not stay to supper?”
He hesitated. “If you wish it.”
“Please. What a lovely harbor this is! I shall be able to sit here and see all the shipping go in and out and watch for your coming home.”
In a few minutes they went down into the little dining room and ate boiled neck of mutton with capers, and raspberries and cream. An hour before, they had been very adult, making a rash gesture with strange caution, as if unable quite to free themselves of the restraints and hesitations grown with the years. But the candlelight loosed thoughts, softened doubts, and discovered pride in their adventure.
They had never had a meal together before.
Net curtains were drawn across the windows, and figures crossed and recrossed them in the street outside. In the room they were a little below the level of the cobbles, and when a cart rumbled past, the wheels were more visible than the driver.
They began to talk about his ship, and he told her of Lisbon, its chiming bells, the endless blazing sunlight, the unbelievable filth of the streets, the orange trees, the olive groves. Sometime she must go with him. Was she a good sailor?
She nodded eagerly, never having been to sea.
They laughed together, and a clock in the town began to strike ten. He got up.
“This is disgraceful, love. Compromising in the eyes of Mrs. Stevens, I’m sure. She’ll expect us to have eaten all her cakes.”
She said, “If you had gone before I should have felt very strange here alone.”
His self-disciplined face was unguarded just then. “Last night I closed a book on my old life, Verity. Tomorrow we’ll open a new one. We must write it together.”
“That’s what I want,” she said. “I’m not at all afraid.”
He walked to the door, and then glanced at her still sitting at the table. He came back.
“Good night.”
He bent to kiss her cheek, but she offered him her lips. They stayed so. His hand on the table came up and lay on her shoulder.
“If ill comes to you, Verity, it will not be my doing. I swear it. Good night, love.”
“Good night, Andrew, my love, good night.” He broke away and left her. She heard him run upstairs for his hat and then come down again and go out. She saw him pass the window. She stayed there for a very long time, her eyes half closed and her head resting against the high-backed chair.