Kate could see that her husband, himself an engaging and sociable young man, with the desire to see the best in every person, was seriously at odds with many members of his own family who had accused William Courtney of self-indulgence and inordinate ambition, which had interfered with his duty to his parents. Darcy, while he was aware of William’s apparent indifference to their plight, was yet to be convinced that his cousin was guilty of deliberate callousness.
“Darcy, do you suppose William is unaware of the animosity his conduct has caused, or is he indifferent to it?” Kate asked.
Darcy’s reply was unambiguous. “I cannot believe that he does not care. He does not strike me as a cold, arrogant, or unfeeling sort of person. There must have been some reason, apart from his desire to pursue his musical ambition, that caused him to act as he has done.”
“But what could it be? Do you suppose we will ever know?” Kate asked.
“Only if he chose to reveal it to us; for my part, I no longer believe it is my business to discover the reason for his conduct, especially since my aunt Emily Courtney’s death. I wonder what Becky thinks,” he said.
Kate shrugged her shoulders. “Becky was so close to your aunt Emily, she cannot forgive William and Elizabeth for their neglect of her. I fear she believes they are both selfish and cold-hearted,” she said sadly.
Darcy could not agree. “I must confess, I know nothing of Elizabeth Harwood and her husband, except they are not generally liked by my grandmother or my mother. My grandfather is suspicious of Mr Harwood’s business dealings, and there is some reason to believe that they are both rather selfish and, at the very least, insensitive. But William, I think, is quite different. I would not wish to make such a judgment about him until I knew more about his circumstances and was better acquainted with him.”
This time Kate, determined to lighten the mood, quipped, “Well, perhaps you will have an opportunity to do just that when we meet at the Continis next week. There is no better occasion than a good dinner party to bring people together.”
* * *
The concert on Saturday afternoon was a triumph. The great hall was packed to capacity; Darcy and Kate felt truly privileged to have such excellent seats with a clear view of the stage. Nor were they too close for comfort. Kate told a hilarious tale of sitting in the front row of the bandstand in a park in Dublin when they were children, and the conductor’s baton flew out of his hand into her lap.
They were delighted to find that the programme listed a couple of their favourite compositions, including a beloved Mozart serenade, some operatic arias, and a few popular English compositions by Handel and Boyce. They could look forward with confidence to enjoying this performance.
William Courtney, when he appeared, received such an ovation that it left Darcy confounded that few members of the family, except Georgiana Grantley and her husband, had attended his concerts with any regularity. His grandparents disliked travelling to London, and his parents were always so busy, they never seemed to have the time. He wished he could have had them there with him to experience William’s work and the prodigious public appreciation he so obviously enjoyed.
They had sat entranced by the music, stunned each time the applause thundered around them, wondering how it was that this man had become so distant from his family that so few of them knew the depth of his talent and the extent of his reputation.
They were almost halfway through the programme when William Courtney addressed the audience. Hitherto he had simply bowed low to acknowledge their applause before leaving the stage, returning later to begin the next item on the programme.
But now, something different was happening on the stage. Some members of the orchestra were moving aside to make a space just a few feet from the conductor’s podium, and William introduced the next performer, a young soprano, Fraulein Clara, who, when she appeared, received tumultuous applause and cries of delight from an audience that clearly knew and appreciated her talent. And her talent was considerable. When she sang songs by Schubert and Mozart, no one could have been left in any doubt of her gift. Prolonged applause and cries for more brought two encores, after which she curtseyed deeply and held out her hand to the conductor, who kissed it gallantly, before she departed the stage. Although Darcy and Kate, like many in the audience, hoped she would return and sing again, she did not.
Afterwards, they were cordially received by William in his dressing room, where they assured him of their enjoyment and thanked him sincerely for the privilege, mentioning particularly the singing of Fraulein Clara. He acknowledged their praise with obvious pleasure and commendable modesty. Returning home, they could speak of little else.
On the morning after, Darcy took a note thanking William together with a basket of fruit round to his apartment, but sadly, William was not in, and his servant accepted them and promised most faithfully that his master would have them as soon as he returned.
“It was the very least I could do,” said Darcy when, two days later, they were on their way to Richmond with Becky and Mr Contini asked if they had enjoyed the concert. Both Kate and Darcy had enthusiastically agreed that they had rarely heard such music so well performed.
“I must confess I was not very knowledgeable about such matters before I met Kate, but since our marriage, she has educated my taste and sharpened my appreciation of music,” Darcy admitted, “and I could find no flaw in any of it.”
Kate intervened to say how very wonderful had been the singing of the young soprano, Fraulein Clara. “I can honestly say I have never before heard such a perfect rendition of the Mozart aria from The Marriage of Figaro, and her Schubert was divine.”
Becky Tate, who had exchanged glances with Mr Contini at the mention of Fraulein Clara’s name, smiled. “Yes, I understand she has a remarkable voice, as well as being quite astonishingly pretty,” she said.
“She is indeed,” said Kate, and keen to know more about the singer, she turned to Becky and asked, “Do you know Fraulein Clara?”
Becky shook her head. “No, I have never met her, nor heard her sing. But my husband’s aunt, Signora Contini, is a very great admirer of Fraulein Clara. Of course she is an even greater devotee of William Courtney. She considers him an outstanding musician, as good as any conductor in Europe today,” she said.
Darcy agreed with great enthusiasm. “I can well believe it,” he said, adding, “I confess I am astonished that our family is not keener to associate itself with someone as talented and distinguished as William Courtney. He has made some mistakes, it is true, but for my part, I think there must be good reason for it. I am proud to be his cousin, and when we return home to Derbyshire, I have every intention of letting my parents and my grandparents know what I think.”
Kate did notice that, at this point, both Becky and Mr Contini looked at one another and neither appeared to want to say anything to endorse Darcy’s words nor, apparently, were they going to contradict him. The sudden strange silence that ensued seemed to unnerve Kate, who tried to steer the conversation towards a more mundane subject.
She was unfamiliar with these parts of the country, where the reaches of the river Thames had managed, by virtue of the wealth of those persons who lived upon its higher banks, to escape some of the worst depredations of Victorian industry that were choking the life out of it downstream.
In what seemed a genuine desire for information, she asked, “Have these fine houses been here very long, Mr Contini? Some of them appear to have very settled gardens.”
Becky’s husband answered her, “Quite long, I think, Mrs Gardiner. When I was a little boy and went to boarding school, one of my friends had a house here and I would be invited every year at Michaelmas to spend the holidays with him. I recall it was a most magnificent place, like I had never seen. Then, many years later, I was delighted when my aunt and uncle purchased a much more modest dwelling in the same part of Richmond and I could visit them here. For me, it was like a childhood dream come true!” he said and proceeded to tell her more
about it.
Kate was fascinated; having spent most of her life in Ireland, she knew little of the history of southern England and least of all the story of London and its environs. Mr Contini knew a good deal more, having grown up in these parts. Their companions listened, enjoying his lively narrative until they were almost at their destination.
For all his descriptive skill, Mr Contini’s account had not adequately prepared Darcy and Kate for the picture that met their eyes when they alighted from their vehicle. Standing upon a natural eminence and set in a small but exquisitely landscaped park, the Continis’ villa was a triumph of simplicity and fine architectural design.
Though quite modest in size, its classical lines combined with discreet innovation and skilled craftsmanship to set it apart from some of the more opulent examples they had passed on their journey from London. With its views of the river and its proximity to Richmond Park, it was indeed a most handsome residence.
Becky’s husband had alighted and helped the ladies out before the servants appeared to attend to their luggage. Once within, they were immediately impressed by the elegance and good taste of the interiors from the furniture and drapes to the artworks and accessories, many but not all of which were clearly Italian in origin.
Their hostess, Signora Contini, arrived to welcome them, ask after their comfort, and invite them into a reception room with wide-open French windows that gave access to the lawn. She apologised for the absence of her husband, who would join them later, and urged the travellers to partake of an array of delectable pastries and cakes, while the Signora dispensed tea and coffee. Her warm hospitality and open affection for both her nephew, Aldo, and Becky reminded Darcy and Kate of snippets of information they had gathered about the Continis from conversations at Pemberley and Camden House; they had long been close friends of the Darcys.
As they enjoyed the refreshments, Signora Contini informed them that Mr William Courtney and his party were arriving a little later, but were not staying overnight at the villa.
“Sadly, we have not sufficient rooms to accommodate them all, and though I should have been happy to have Mr Courtney to stay, he was not keen to split up his party. So they are to spend the night with a friend at the White Lodge, while you will stay with us,” she said, reminding them that the soiree was not a formal one and they need not stand on ceremony.
“There will only be a few other guests, whom I think you will enjoy meeting, so please do not feel you have to be formal at all. We expect to be no more than fourteen at dinner, and once you have been introduced, you may sit as you please, except Mr William Courtney may choose first where he would wish to sit, since he is our honoured guest tonight,” she explained.
“Will we have the pleasure of hearing Mr Courtney play?” Kate asked, adding quickly, “I understand he is, in addition to being a distinguished conductor, an excellent performer on the pianoforte, too.”
Signora Contini beamed. “Of course, yes, he is a very superior pianist, and I think if we ask him he will not refuse us. But, tonight, I am hoping we have something even better—but I cannot say any more, I must not spoil the surprise… yes?”
Everyone turned to her, but she was very firm and would say no more. They must all wait a few hours more to find out, she said, seeming to promise without saying it that it would be worth the wait. Shortly afterwards, two maids arrived and escorted the guests upstairs to their exceedingly comfortable rooms, while other servants scurried around clearing away the tea and preparing the rooms downstairs for the evening with fragrant flowers in long Venetian glass vases, fine porcelain, crystal, and silver tableware.
Despite their close acquaintance with Pemberley, with whose gracious ambience and elegantly appointed rooms they were quite familiar, Darcy and Kate could not but admire the tasteful luxury of the Continis’ villa.
When they came downstairs some hours later, they found the place transformed, with the folding glass doors between the reception hall and the drawing room having been fully opened up to create a splendid space, beneath a glittering chandelier, while in the corner of the room, upon a small, low stage, stood an elegant instrument, an Italian grand piano.
Kate, who could well appreciate its particular beauty, had to suppress a little gasp of pleasure as they were joined by Becky, her husband, Georgiana Grantley. She was a particular favourite of the Continis, who had known and loved her since she was a little girl. Her brother, Mr Darcy, had entrusted her into their care without reservation, and a warm relationship had developed between them, which had greatly enhanced Georgiana’s own understanding and appreciation of art and music.
Georgiana was pleased indeed to see Darcy and Kate again, and greeted them warmly. “I did not know you were going to be here. When Signora Contini told me you were already here, I was so very happy I had agreed to come, even though I do feel guilty about leaving Dr Grantley on his own. He has not been well ever since that bout of influenza last Winter. He has not shaken off the cough that came with it, and now he will see no more doctors; he says he is tired of them all and wishes to concentrate upon his paper for the Bishop’s conference,” she explained.
Both Kate and Darcy understood that it must have been for her a difficult decision; Georgiana’s devotion to her distinguished husband was well known. With her was her youngest daughter, Virginia, a rather reserved young woman who had, sadly for her, inherited none of her mother’s good looks, save for a fine, healthy complexion.
But she could play the pianoforte, and Signora Contini soon persuaded her to leave her mother’s side, sit down to the instrument, and entertain her guests while they waited on the arrival of Mr William Courtney and his party from Richmond Park.
They were a little late arriving, their vehicle having had a problem with a horse throwing a shoe, but when they did enter the room, no one in the company could have been disappointed. Mr William Courtney himself stood out, being very tall with dark hair and most elegantly attired as befits a renowned musician.
All of the ladies, including those who had known him since childhood and others who were meeting him for the first time, declared him to be one of the handsomest men they had ever met. As the evening progressed and some of them came to know him a little better, their admiration would surely increase, for to his good looks they could add his gracious manners and complete lack of pretentiousness.
With him came a party of five, three men and two women of whom four were fairly unremarkable except they were all very well dressed and played various musical instruments; the fifth, a veritable vision of loveliness, beautiful, elegantly gowned and coiffured, was none other than Fraulein Clara. Darcy and Kate looked at one another and then across at Becky and Mr Contini, who did not appear to be at all surprised. Perhaps they had been forewarned by Signora Contini, thought Darcy, who for the first time began to think there was more to this soirée than met the eye.
William and his party were introduced to the rest of the guests, whom he was seen to greet and converse with in an easy manner, remarkable for its lack of affectation. When he came around to Darcy and Kate, he was so openly and sincerely pleased to see them and drew them into his circle so naturally as they went in to dinner that they were quite charmed.
Signora Contini was as good as her word; having taken her place to the left of her husband, she waited until William Courtney was seated to his right and then let her guests sit as they pleased until all the places were taken. As they were almost all couples or at least pairs, they arranged themselves quite comfortably around the large table. Fraulein Clara was seated next to William, while Darcy and Kate found themselves opposite the celebrated couple. It was from this vantage point that they were able to observe during the meal small signs and indications of intimacy that led to the birth of a completely new idea.
When afterwards the ladies withdrew to the drawing room to be joined later by the gentlemen, Signora Contini proceeded to do what all her guests had been waiting for: request Mr Courtney to take his place at the grand piano. He
obliged without fuss, delighting his audience with a couple of poetic Chopin nocturnes, and then surprised them when, by way of a pièce de resistance, he held out a hand to Fraulein Clara, whom he guided into place beside the instrument before seating himself down to accompany her. When she sang, the company was left in no doubt of her talent, but also of the remarkable affinity between singer and accompanist.
Having sung two songs and charmingly agreed to an encore, the lady stepped down; William rose and kissed her hand, leaving Kate convinced that the couple must be more than a perfect musical match.
Later that night, when the rest of the guests had departed and they had retired to their room, Kate confided in her husband.
“Darcy, I am beginning to think that William and Clara are lovers. You could not fail to notice the closeness and the perfect understanding between them. Do you not agree?” she asked as they got into bed. Darcy, who had been reaching the identical conclusion, though with somewhat less insouciance than his wife, nodded and said, “I do, and I am beginning to believe that it probably has something to do with the fact that William has been less than candid with his family, specifically with his late mother, my aunt Emily.”
“Do you think he stayed away because he wished to avoid telling her, fearing her disapproval?” Kate asked.
“I do, and that of Mr and Mrs Darcy, no doubt, and my parents. I cannot believe they would have welcomed an opera singer with open arms, can you? It would seem that Signor and Signora Contini certainly knew all about it, though.”
“And Becky,” she prompted.
Legacy of Pemberley (The Pemberley Chronicles; Pride and Prejudice Sequel Series) Page 12
