The Deception At Lyme

Like a great openmouthed serpent, its head reaches into the sea, its jaw acts as a quay, its body curves round to form a harbor, its tail stretches to the shore. Known as “the Cobb” for reasons lost to time, this man-made barrier more than half a millennium old is but a youthful newcomer to a wild, unstable coast where prehistoric creatures once dwelled.

Were it not for the Cobb, there would be no harbor, and were it not for the harbor, there would be no Lyme, for the rugged shoreline the seawall faces offers no natural protected anchorage. The construction of the wall proved the making of the town, their fates and fortunes entwined. From simple medieval beginnings, the Cobb, the harbor, and the village together evolved into a thriving port worthy of royal notice.

In this haven, ships were built and launched, trading vessels unloaded exotic wares, sailors returning from distant lands found welcome, and visitors invested hope and fortunes in the alleged restorative powers of seabathing—all sheltered by a mighty stone guardian from the caprice of the sea and the violence of Mother Nature.

In the summer of 1815, however, even the Cobb could not safeguard Lyme from the tempests of human nature.

One

After securing accommodations, and ordering a dinner at one of the inns, the next thing to be done was unquestionably to walk directly down to the sea.

—Persuasion

Elizabeth Bennet Darcy had yet to glimpse the Cobb as she negotiated one of the steep cobblestone streets that wended through Lyme’s cliffside dwellings and shops. The close buildings obscured her view of the renowned seawall and harbor some half-mile distant from the town. Yet even had the breakwater been within sight, her gaze coveted a still more remarkable spectacle: the sea itself. In all her three-and-twenty years, she had never before laid eyes upon the sea, and the narrow glimpses she managed to catch between buildings as her small party walked down to the shoreline only whetted her impatience to behold it unobstructed.

At last they reached the end of Broad Street, where a promontory opened up a commanding prospect, and she stopped to absorb the sight. She could see not only the harbor, but also miles beyond. The sun traced its descent toward the horizon, its rays diffused by clouds into muted green and yellow light that slid across the dark water rolling toward the beach.

“Is it as you imagined?”

Had her husband not stood directly beside her, his question might have gone unheard. The wind blowing across Lyme Bay tugged insistently at her bonnet, the ribbons beneath her chin straining to prevent its taking flight.

“I could not possibly have imagined this.” Though she had seen depictions of the sea, no canvas could capture its magnitude, nor the latent power she could feel even from their elevated vantage point. Tall-masted ships moored in the harbor, their mighty hulls dwarfing the smaller fishing boats bobbing round them with the incoming tide. Still more great vessels anchored beyond the seawall, majestic silhouettes against the horizon.

She turned to Darcy. “Thank you for indulging my eagerness to walk down to the sea tonight. You and your sister have visited the coast on enough previous occasions that it cannot hold for you the novelty it does for me.”

“I have never visited this part of the coast before. And I believe my appreciation of the sea is the greater for viewing it this time with you.”

“Despite my having drawn you and Georgiana out of our lodgings nearly the moment we arrived in Lyme?”

“The more so, because you did.” Darcy smiled. “I believe you are even more keen to experience the sea than is Lily-Anne.”

Elizabeth had felt a touch of guilt upon leaving their young daughter with her nurse while the adults walked to the shore. Their family had been speaking with such anticipation about this holiday that although Lily-Anne’s vocabulary was limited, “sea” had been among her most-used words for the past fortnight. The journey to Lyme, however, had tested the eighteen-month-old’s temper beyond endurance. She would enjoy her first sight of the sea in the morning, after the proper night’s rest for which her nurse was now settling her down.

Georgiana clamped a hand upon her hat. “Lily-Anne would have been carried off by one of these gusts of wind. Do you think it will rain?”

Darcy glanced at the sky. “Not tonight. However, more clouds are forming, and sunset is not long off. We should continue to the beach so that we can see it and return to our lodgings before full dark.”

As they descended steps down to the square, another gust swept the cliff, catching hold of Elizabeth’s wide-brimmed straw bonnet. “If I do not adjust my hat, the wind will carry me off,” she said.

An inn, the Lion, stood not far up the street, with a narrow passage between it and its neighbor that would provide shelter from the wind. They walked to the building, and Elizabeth entered the alley while Darcy and Georgiana waited at its entrance.

She removed her gloves and tried to untie the bonnet. The wind, unfortunately, had strained the ribbons so taut against her jaw that now, though the ties had slackened in the sheltered space, they formed a knot so tight that she struggled to work it free. She glanced at Darcy and Georgiana, thinking to summon one of them for assistance. They, however, had become engaged in conversation with a couple she did not recognize. The lady appeared of an age similar to Georgiana’s; the gentleman, about a decade older. The animated manner with which Darcy’s sister spoke with the lady suggested the familiarity of previous acquaintance.

Electing not to interrupt, Elizabeth continued her solitary struggle. As she tried to coax the knot, she became aware that Darcy and Georgiana’s conversation was not the only one taking place near her. Voices drifted through an open window of the inn.

“Do not deny it—I saw you leave the Sheet Anchor with one of them, and later walking on the Cobb with the other.” The voice was a woman’s: sharp, high-pitched. “You told me you had done with them.”

“I have not seen either of them in I know not how long.” This voice was male. Cultured. Condescending. “I was not aware they were in Lyme until we happened to meet today.”

“Do not insult me with your lies; I know you better than anyone. And were that not enough, I have talked to each of them myself. You never stopped. All this time, I thought the business had ended. But you have been carrying on behind my back.”

Elizabeth tugged harder at the ribbons. Uncomfortable with the accidental eavesdropping, she wanted to secure her hat and move along as quickly as possible.

“My affairs are none of your concern.”

“Your affairs? Those affairs never would have begun had I not been so foolish as to introduce you. We came here to meet them, did we not? You allowed me to believe we were on holiday, when all along you were planning these rendezvous.”

“Of what have you to complain? You are on holiday,” responded the man, who Elizabeth presumed was the woman’s husband. “You spend my money as if you were.”

“Your money! And where is mine? Where is my share of what they have received all these years?”

“Do I not provide for you? You are wearing your share. You dine on your share. You drive about town in your share, patronize half the shops in London with your share. So long as you live under my protection, whom I meet and why is my business.”

“Your business—and you—can go to the devil.”

“Madam, at times I believe myself already in his company.”

There followed an expletive which Elizabeth had never before heard uttered, let alone by a woman. She edged away from the window to distance herself from the scene of marital discord.

“What of the promise you made me?” the wife continued, her shrill voice rising to a volume Elizabeth could