It was a plunge into darkness.
She could hear the waves dashing against the wall below, and see the distant light of the ships anchored in the harbour through the misty night. She hoped out there was the small boat from HMS Prudent that would carry her to a new life. Or death.
Above, the Marine House was steeped in darkness, her window open to the sea and the rope hanging down by the side of the wall. She had chosen the right moment to leave, through the window, when darkness descends on the shore. It was a flight of desperation, from a husband who failed to understand her, from everything that made life unbearable. She was leaving after 15 years in his household, when she entered his life with high hopes as a 'girl-wife' at 14. She knew not where she would end up, "the next 24 hours will destine me to the grave or a life reproach," she had scribbled hurriedly in a farewell note to her faithful friend as she fled.
She had left a letter to her husband back in her room: "Draper, my heart bleeds for what I suppose may possibly be the sufferings of yours, though too surely had you loved, all this could never have been." There was nothing in her life that gave her happiness and she did not see anything to look forward to, either.