Dover—March 1815
‘Come along, Mama—it’s this way.’
Juliana moved confidently along the wharf, ignoring the rain, the sailors, dockworkers and passengers. She wore a fashionable travelling gown of dark-green merino, which clung to her form, and a fetching hat with a small feather stuck in it at a jaunty angle.
‘You there!’ Her voice was strong, clear and assured.
‘Yes, miss?’ The docker doffed his hat, despite the rain.
‘We require a carriage—a good carriage. It will take us to Ashford tonight, then on towards Surrey.’
‘Yes, miss. Right away, miss.’
‘The porter will bring our luggage. We shall require a place to wait, out of the rain, while our luggage is brought from the ship.’
‘Er, yes, miss. You won’t want to go to the Swan—it’s not for the likes of you. You’d be better suited to the King’s Head.’ As he spoke, the docker indicated the King’s Head, failing to conceal his horror at the thought of two gently bred ladies wandering into the Swan in broad daylight. Juliana tried not to smile.
‘Thank you.’ Her voice gentled. ‘See, Mama? Did I not tell you all would be well?’
Her mama did not look convinced. She glanced around fearfully, clinging to her reticule as if convinced it would be stolen from her at any moment. Juliana sighed inwardly. Her mama’s anxiety was even worse than she had anticipated. She needed to get her indoors and offer her reassurance. Ignoring the spring rain, which was getting heavier by the minute, Juliana marched purposefully to the inn, her mama following in her wake.
The King’s Head had seen better days. The sign over the door was a little faded, as was the wool rug on the floor of the taproom. The wooden panelling and gloomy portraits on the walls gave an air of an age gone by, but the stone floor was clean and the brass taps shone.
The landlord, assessing their quality at a glance, bustled forward to welcome the two ladies. Inviting them to follow him out of the common taproom to the cosy parlour, he asked for their requirements—tea, cakes, and the fire to be built up. As usual, Juliana took charge, making her requests politely but firmly. They were to have sole use of the parlour. The tea should be served very hot, with an additional pot of hot water.
Mama sank into the nearest chair with an attitude of great relief.
Juliana immediately went to her. ‘Oh, Mama! You look fagged to death. And I have dragged you across the sea when you never wanted to come. You know I could have travelled to visit Charlotte with just a maid to accompany me. You did not have to come! Here, let me put this cushion behind you. Your tea will be here directly.’ She threw an imperious glance at the landlord, who quickly absented himself in pursuit of the hottest tea he could procure. Good! Now she could spend the next hour or so seeing to her mama’s comfort, soothing her and ensuring she was relaxed enough to cope with the next part of the journey.
Juliana knew exactly what her mama required, for had she not done this many times before? Mama needed solitude—the parlour door closed against strangers, along with hot tea and reassuring words.
Mama waited until the door had closed behind the landlord, before declaring tremulously, ‘I do not mind, Juliana. Well, that is to say... I cannot claim I wanted to come, but I could not let you travel by yourself, all the way across the sea. Why, you have never been to England before!’
Juliana sighed, remembering the many hours of agonised debating. Mama had wanted to accompany her, yet had also not wanted to. Juliana had bitten her lip, not having wanted to influence her mother, content to travel with her or without her. It had been months before Mama had made a final decision.
‘And I have told you before, I can look after myself, Mama. Why, I have travelled from Brussels to school in Vienna with just a chambermaid for company, many times!’
‘That is different.’
‘How
