To England, With Love

Chapter II: Land ho!

Port of London ~ September 1818

"Land ho!"

The cry resonated throughout the Thalia, and shouts of victory and accomplishment soon followed. Bella had just finished packing her belongings when an abrupt knock was heard from the door of her chambers on the ship.

"I'll be out very soon!" She cried back to the knock while fasting the last latch on her luggage case.

She opened the door and ushered some of her cases out onto the corridors of the Thalia. The same Imperterritus soldier who had escorted off the Wilton estate and onto the ship six and a half weeks ago stood before her again with three others. They took the luggage and beckoned to her to go towards the deck. She complied gracefully and made her was to the deck of the Thalia where she met a bustle of activity.

Men were scrubbing and polishing the deck, some endeavoured in carrying barrels of molasses and wet sugar off the ship and some packed out various West Indian delicacies but the night-time view of the city that stood before her took her breath away completely.

England was beautiful.

She quite literally had naught seen anything like it in Jamaica. The city glittered like strings of diamond as it was enveloped within the darkness of the night. Men and women walked on the interconnected streets confidently as if they were dancing and the carriages were being pulled by strange, large creatures. Everyone there looked aristocrat-like, and Bella almost felt minuscule in comparison to the beautiful women that slipped out their carriages and glided across the streets. For another thought, there were no West African slaves in the picturesque view before her except the very ones that worked alongside her.

A hiss of instructions brought back Bella to the present and she descended off the plank of the Thalia and onto London soil.

"No. This place is absolutely naught like Jamaica." She thought to herself. Glancing down at one of her best dresses that would have been revered in the British West Indies, it seemed as if she were clothed in a simple day dress in England. Bella sighed. There was no turning back to change now and there was certainly no writhing back to Jamaica.

She encouraged herself and painted a smirk across her face as she strutted off the ship. Heads had turned in her direction. Sailors stopped what they were doing and stared curiously at the knock-out beauty that dressed as elaborate as any lady of the court and carried herself with grace and dignity as terrifying men in black had trailed behind her. As she made her way out of the Manchester port, a carriage pulled by the frightening large beast greeted her. She swallowed deeply and gripped the arm of the gentleman who offered to assist her into the embellished chaise of the carriage.

With a jolt the carriage began to move, and Bella felt sick when she saw the beasts propelling them.

To take her mind and thoughts off them, she winded down her carriage window and allowed the damp, cool night air to caress her face. She noted with a shiver that the climate in London was significantly more chilly than that of the one in Jamaica and she got worried as her day dresses and evening gowns were all tailored to accommodate a warmer climate. Bella sighed for the umpteenth time since she arrived in London and dispelled those thoughts.

Bella now though of what she was going to present herself as to the Duke of Devonshire. From her studies, she knew that the duchy of Devonshire was one of the largest duchies in England. She also acknowledged that the duchy was quite fruitful and was the backbone of England's finances, so they themselves, must have been very wealthy.