Darcy's Journey

by M. A. Sandiford

  Their journey from Verona had soon fallen into a regular pattern. Darcy had hired a new vetturino, familiar with the Tyrol, and a robust carriage with plenty of space outside for luggage and servants as well as comfortable seating for four. Their route followed the River Adige north along the right bank. As they progressed, the valley became narrower and deeper, with orchards and vineyards nearby, and jagged foothills beyond.

  Having parted with Professor Pavoni they had gained two guards, both Austrian soldiers of the rank of Unteroffizier, which according to Hilda meant an experienced soldier permitted to command a squadron. Their names were Bloch and Reithoffer, and in their light grey uniforms and brass helmets it was hard to tell them apart: both were tall and straight-backed, with dark sideburns, long impassive faces, and thick moustaches. They rode behind the carriage on horseback, and were armed with sabres in addition to pistols and rifles. At the start of every stage they arrived punctually and bowed before mounting; otherwise they kept to themselves. She wondered whether they would trouble Hilda’s pretty maid, Gretchen, but they stayed aloof, leaving Burgess and Hilda’s manservant to compete for the maid’s attention.

  The vetturino drove unerringly to the best inn at each stage, and they ordered two good-sized rooms, Elizabeth sharing with Hilda. As they moved into Austrian territory the inns were neat and clean, with polite service and wholesome food—the bread and wine in particular were excellent.

  To her relief there were no problems at the border. According to Darcy their names had been listed for detention, but since a letter from Graf countermanded this request explicitly, they passed through with fulsome apologies for the delay. Finally they were outside the Kingdom of Italy and hence, she hoped, beyond Carandini’s clutches.

  As her earlier troubles faded, new ones took their place. She had still had no opportunity to talk privately with Darcy—nor had he made any effort to create one. After their declarations of love at the Castelvecchio this omission felt unnatural. He was considerate and attentive, as ever, and their conversations had been friendly, especially since she had recovered from the laudanum and no longer suffered vagaries of mood. But she missed the excitement and intimacy of their flight from Venice, when they had pretended to be married and even shared a bedroom. She wanted that intimacy back, more than anything she had ever wanted in her life. That was the truth she was resisting. She yearned to become his wife in reality, yet recognised that this was precisely what she ought not do, for both their sakes.

  As to Fraulein Edelmann, a rivalry had developed as the quiet-mannered singer revealed her sharper side. It still rankled with Hilda that Elizabeth had sought her friendship under a false name; her objective now was to expose anything else that the former Mrs Ashley might be hiding. In the bedroom they talked long into the night, with Hilda deploying every trick to induce confidences; during the day, Elizabeth was side-lined as the Fraulein provocatively monopolised Darcy.

  ‘So, Miss Bennet.’ Fraulein Edelmann pushed away a half-eaten slice of strudel. ‘We are boring you, I think.’

  ‘On the contrary, I have been listening with avid attention,’ Elizabeth smiled. ‘The cathedral holds no mysteries for me now. You have illuminated every inch.’

  Hilda Edelmann snorted. ‘Ha! The English humour. You say the opposite to what you believe.’

  ‘Perhaps my mind did wander for a moment or two,’ Elizabeth admitted. ‘Still, your knowledge is impressive.’

  ‘This is not my first visit. My father and I stayed several days while travelling down to Florence.’ She paused. ‘Are you interested in playing again?’

  ‘You mean, in public?’

  ‘Why not?’ Fraulein Edelmann leaned forward. ‘Near here is a building called the Merkantilgebäude or Mercantile Court. Merchants meet there to organise trade fairs and markets. They have a grand hall with room for a hundred seats. I gave an impromptu recital there last time, and we could organise another now.’ She looked at Darcy. ‘If you think it is safe.’

  ‘I see no danger from Carandini,’ Darcy said. ‘But we should not delay our journey. War can be only months away, and we must try to reach England before it starts.’

  ‘Have you a special reason for performing here?’ Elizabeth asked.

  Hilda rubbed thumb against forefinger in the Neapolitan gesture for money. ‘Music is my livelihood, and the burghers will pay generously to hear a concert.’

  Elizabeth frowned. ‘I will try, if you wish; we owe you that much. But can you not find a better accompanist?’

  ‘Not at such short notice. Anyway, you know the pieces, and I like performing with you. If the hall is free we could rehearse today and announce the recital for tomorrow.’

  Elizabeth looked at Darcy. ‘Can we stay an extra day?’

  ‘A rest will restore our energies.’ He paused. ‘But Fraulein, if you are short of money, I can help.’

  Elizabeth laughed. ‘That cannot be true, at the rate you have been spending. Your credit must be almost exhausted.’ She grinned at Hilda. ‘I assume half of the receipts of this concert will come to me?’

  Hilda straightened her back. ‘Ten per cent, Miss Bennet, is the rate due an accompanist. In case you have forgotten, I have to work my passage to Salzburg.’

  ‘A mere hop, compared with our journey.’ Elizabeth addressed Darcy. ‘Seriously, how much credit is left?’

  He frowned, as if annoyed by her probing. ‘Sufficient, I hope, provided we spend carefully.’

  ‘You see, Fraulein? Mr Darcy and I are also pressed for cash, and deserve our share of the spoils.’

  Hilda sighed, and Elizabeth was on the point of relenting when the singer said, with a sly grin: ‘Very well, but as an amateur you cannot claim the full ten per cent. Five at most.’

  Elizabeth snorted. ‘As an amateur, I deserve a higher rate as compensation for the strain on my nerves. Twenty per cent.’

  ‘I see. English humour again. Out of the question.’

  ‘Very well, no concert.’

  ‘I will find another accompanist, far more proficient than you.’

  ‘In twenty-four hours? Go ahead.’

  Fraulein Edelmann fluttered her eyelashes at Darcy. ‘I beg you, sir, protect me from this woman. She is a monster.’

  Darcy looked bewildered, as if unsure whether they were joking, or engaged in a genuine battle. ‘Perhaps we should first ascertain whether the hall is available. If not, the division is immaterial.’

  Fraulein Edelmann clapped her hands. ‘I will go directly!’ She pointed a finger at Elizabeth. ‘Let it never be said that I am uncharitable to the needy. Fifteen per cent and not a kreuzer more.’

  32

  ‘So, Mr Darcy, the mountain air is fresh, no?’

  Darcy suppressed a sigh, wearying of Fraulein Edelmann’s continuous efforts to engage him in conversation.

  ‘Invigorating.’ He turned away to study the road, now veering away from the River Eisack, which they had followed since Bozen. They were climbing now, in a deep valley that rose steeply on the other side of the river, but flattened on their side to a forested plain.

  He glanced at Elizabeth, who was dozing with a book open on her lap. There could be no doubt now of her recovery. She was stronger, her skin glowed, and best of all, her lively charm was once more in evidence. He pictured her in the Mercantile Court Hall taking on the challenge of another concert, with much the same outcome. She shone in the silk dress, now contrasting with her natural dark hair; her absorbed expression at the pianoforte was captivating; she played calmly, unflustered by the occasional slip. Nobody could upstage Fraulein Edelmann’s wonderful voice, but paired together they were a feast for the eye as well as the ear, the vivacious Englishwoman in cream-gold a perfect foil for the tall blonde Austrian in light blue.

  The applause, as before, had been enthusiastic, with two encores in addition to several demands for repeats—all graciously accepted. Moreover, to his relief, there had been no unpleasant sequel. As a precaution he had asked Bloch and Reithoffer t
o stand at the back of the hall and watch out for anyone behaving suspiciously. Fortunately they performed the duty discreetly and even enjoyed the recital.

  ‘How far to Brixen?’ Fraulein Edelmann asked.

  ‘We can rest the horses at a village half an hour away. Brixen is one stage further on. We should be there by early evening.’

  ‘It is a fine old town with a long cultural tradition.’ She flashed him a smile. ‘We could give another recital.’

  ‘I would prefer not to lose another day.’

  ‘Yes, I know, you must hasten to England.’ She sighed, then suddenly brightened. ‘But your tour has been so limited. Why not come to Salzburg with me, and thence to Vienna? It will be safer too. You can wait for the coalition armies to defeat Bonaparte and only then return home.’

  Darcy glanced again at Elizabeth, who showed no sign of following the conversation. ‘I would be delighted one day to visit Austria, especially Vienna. However …’ He broke off as there was a cry from the driver, and Bloch rapped on the window.

  ‘Achtung! Räuberbande!’

  Fraulein Edelmann gasped. ‘Take care! Brigands!’

  As the carriage jerked to a halt, Darcy unwrapped the pistol he had kept in readiness at his side, and buckled on his sword.

  ‘What is happening?’ Elizabeth was awake, looking frantically out of the window. ‘Was that a pistol shot?’

  ‘Stay inside and keep your heads down.’ Darcy opened the door and descended. The track was soft, with grassy verges and thick pine forest on both sides. Peering into the blackness of the trees, he saw no assailants. Ahead, Bloch and Reithoffer rode towards a bend where the back of a carriage was just visible. Darcy exhaled with relief. They were not under attack. The Austrian guards had gone to the aid of another party.

  He called up to the manservants. ‘Burgess, you have your pistol? And a rifle? Help Gretchen inside, then stay here and guard the women. I will return shortly.’

  Darcy’s instincts were to remain behind as well, but with the guards outnumbered it was his duty to join the fray. He heard another exchange of pistol fire as one of the guards galloped at a band of four or five men. The brigands scattered, and two of them ran back in Darcy’s direction. He kneeled, took aim, and felled one of them with a shot to the leg. The other ran alarmingly towards their own carriage, but veered off into the trees on receiving a fusillade from Burgess and the other manservant.

  A scrabbling noise alerted him to the brigand he had shot, who was reaching for the butt of his rifle. Darcy kicked at the grasping hand, sending the rifle spinning off into the undergrowth, before drawing his sword. The brigand spread his arms submissively and stared back, revealing a scarred weather-beaten complexion and tangled beard. He was dressed to cut a dashing figure, with an embroidered vest over dark green tunic, blue breeches, boots, and a conical feathered hat which had rolled off as he fell.

  Darcy removed a knife on the man’s belt and threw it after the rifle. The brigand stayed down, grimacing as he explored a dark stain on his breeches, just above the knee. Looking down the road, Darcy acknowledged a thumbs-up from Burgess, then turned to see Reithoffer approaching, still mounted, with his sabre drawn.

  ‘Bravo! Gut gemacht!’ Reithoffer pointed at the injured brigand, then to the carriage that had been attacked. ‘Ein. Zwei.’

  ‘You got one as well?’ Darcy asked in Italian.

  ‘Ja.’

  ‘Watch him.’ He left the Austrian soldier on guard and ran back to their own carriage, where Elizabeth was leaning out of the window, talking to Burgess, while Fraulein Edelmann tended Gretchen.

  ‘You are well?’ Elizabeth cried.

  ‘Fine. It was bandits robbing the coach in front. Two are down and the rest have fled. I must join the other party now, to make sure they are safe.’

  33

  Her heart still thudding, Elizabeth leaned out to watch as Darcy ran ahead. She noticed one of the Austrian guards trussing a prisoner. Further along, the other guard roped a brigand to the back of a coach. Darcy joined a fashionably-dressed gentleman who was helping servants repack scattered valuables in a trunk. He turned, waved to her, and ran back.

  ‘Ladies, can you help? We have a Bavarian family here travelling to Munich with a driver and two servants. The bandits were searching their belongings when we intervened. Herr von Essen is clearing up, but his wife Anja and their children are in distress …’

  Fraulein Edelmann, busy bandaging Gretchen’s leg, dismissed Elizabeth with a wave. ‘Go. I will follow.’

  Darcy helped her descend. ‘What happened to the maid?’

  ‘She landed awkwardly when getting down from the carriage, and twisted her ankle.’

  ‘I told Burgess to help her down.’

  ‘He tried, but she panicked and jumped before he was ready. Are the family hurt?’

  ‘The mother took a scratch.’ He opened the side of the coach and Elizabeth saw a small plump woman in a plain blue gown and cap studying her face in a hand-mirror, while two small children picked pieces of coral from the floor. The woman stared at her as if she were a ghost and spoke frantically in German.

  Elizabeth took the seat opposite. ‘Guten Tag. Fraulein Bennet. Do you understand English?’

  ‘Englisch? Nein.’

  ‘Italiano?’

  The woman nodded, and pointed to her neck. ‘La collana …’

  In fragments the story emerged. A bandit had wanted Frau von Essen’s necklace. She was unfastening the clasp when there was a cry that soldiers were approaching. The bandit had grabbed the necklace and tugged, snapping the cord and showering the coach with coral. She pointed to a line at her throat where the cord had rasped.

  Elizabeth took her hand and examined the wound. ‘It is grazed, but not deeply. There will be no scar. I have balm in my reticule which may ease the discomfort.’

  She found a small tub containing a preparation made from lanolin and beeswax, and rubbed the pomade gently over the folds of Frau von Essen’s throat.

  ‘Better?’

  ‘Ja. Danke.’

  The effect might be negligible, but merely receiving treatment calmed the woman down. Elizabeth pointed to the children, who had been watching wide-eyed as she applied the cream. ‘Are they well?’

  It seemed to dawn on Frau von Essen that she had been fussing over a trivial injury while ignoring her possibly traumatised son and daughter. ‘Markus. Erika. Both seven years old.’

  ‘Twins!’ Elizabeth ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘Look, you’ve collected all the pieces. The necklace will be good as new.’

  Erika inched closer and showed her a wooden doll, ten inches long, with hair painted on the small head, and a tuck comb carved on the crown. As Elizabeth helped her thread the arms though the sleeves of an evening gown, she noticed that all the limbs were jointed.

  ‘Erika, what a lovely doll!’

  The girl showed no sign of understanding Italian, but Frau von Essen said, ‘Not Erika’s doll. A sample belonging to my husband.’

  ‘He sells them?’

  She nodded eagerly. ‘Traditional Grodner Tal dolls from Bavaria. Wood, many sizes. We trade in Milan, and now return to Munich.’

  Elizabeth smiled, imagining the bandits’ confusion at encountering this unusual booty.

  Two hours later, Elizabeth sat opposite Darcy as they left the small town of Klausen. Ahead, in the other carriage, Fraulein Edelmann had joined the von Essen family. The brigands had been left at a Gendarmerie in Klausen, and a surgeon sent for.

  ‘What will happen to them?’ Elizabeth asked.

  Darcy shrugged. ‘If their injuries are treated they will live to face trial. In Britain they would be hung or deported. Here I assume they will be hung—or guillotined if French penalties are still applied.’

  Elizabeth nodded, appreciating that he had answered her query without prevarication. ‘I was in such fear as you ran towards the bandits.’

  ‘Luckily most of them dispersed as soon as Bloch and Reithoffer rode into them.’


  ‘I suppose you had to shoot that man?’

  ‘He was armed, and running in the direction of our carriage. If he had turned towards the forest I would have let him go.’

  Elizabeth glanced at Gretchen, whom Fraulein Edelmann had left behind for chaperonage. The maid showed no sign of following the conversation. ‘Much as I admire Hilda, it is a relief to be alone with you again.’

  He smiled. ‘Fraulein Edelmann has certainly been talkative these last days.’

  ‘She obviously enjoys your company.’

  ‘I wish she would desist, but have tried to be polite. After all, we owe our safety to her.’

  ‘But it must be flattering to be cajoled by such a beautiful and talented woman. Only a general’s daughter, of course, but we know how little you care about social rank. I am fully expecting you to abandon me and follow the lovely Hilda to Salzburg.’

  He hesitated, as if longing to contradict her, but reluctant to submit to such overt manipulation. ‘Jealousy does not become you.’

  She looked down, flushing. ‘I’m not jealous. I feel unworthy, that is all.’

  He sighed. ‘I meant what I said at the Castelvecchio.’

  She raised her eyes, preferring to keep silence so that his words hung in the air. He was studying her eagerly, no doubt hoping for a similar assurance from her. He had spoken truly; had she?

  Eventually, almost in tears, she said, ‘I am so afraid.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘Of my feelings. Of making a terrible mistake.’

  They both glanced at Gretchen, who was looking out of the window and apparently paying no attention. Darcy leaned forward, lowering his voice. ‘Let us be clear. Are you implying that you too meant what you said?’