Darcy's Journey

by M. A. Sandiford

  She looked away, unable to meet his eye, and said in a strangled whisper, ‘Yes.’

  He also looked away, and for a while they remained silent. She wondered whether he too was loathe to disturb the echo of her declaration. Certainly he had relaxed, and when he spoke, his voice had a deeper resonance.

  ‘Elizabeth, if I may use your name, please let me know what it is that you fear. If we truly love one another, why may we not marry? Why do you fear a mistake?’

  ‘Because I have never felt this way in my life. I understand now what it was that drove you, against all rationality, to propose in Kent.’

  He managed a smile. ‘Perhaps for both our sakes that conversation is best forgotten.’

  ‘But do you not see?’ She faced him more confidently, encouraged that they could talk openly. ‘Yes, our manners left much to be desired, yet as we have both admitted, almost everything we said was true. Not about Wickham, but the rest. You were proud and sometimes inconsiderate when we first met in Hertfordshire. My family is a significant obstacle. If you erred, it was on the side of generosity, in supposing that Jane and I are so different from the others. The truth is that we were brought up by an unworldly over-lenient father and foolish mother, with not even a governess to teach us a modicum of good sense. Yes, I have learned to dance, play, and sing to a moderate standard, and to bluff my way in society by an impertinent brand of repartee that some people charitably mistake for wit. But at root I am like Kitty, Lydia and the others: superficial and silly. All this, I am convinced, you had already seen at the time. In vain have I struggled. My feelings will not be repressed. What were you struggling against? The rational conviction that I was not a suitable partner for a man in your position. You were blinded by love—and apparently still are, the only difference being that now I am blinded too.’

  She was pleased that he thought for a while, absorbing her meaning rather than issuing an immediate rebuttal.

  ‘So you are not concerned with the disparity in our connections? Rather, you fear we are ill-suited as companions. You think that once passion has faded, I will see you as you imagine yourself to be—superficial and the rest—and lose respect for you.’

  She smiled affectionately. ‘You say it far better than I did.’

  ‘You are not daunted by the social and practical duties of becoming mistress of Pemberley?’

  ‘Yes, but I believe I might carry them off by a mixture of improvisation and bluff, which have kept me afloat in the humbler waters of Hertfordshire.’

  He returned her smile. ‘So the problem, if it exists, lies between ourselves. In time, I will see you as you truly are, a superficially charming scatterbrain …’

  She laughed. ‘And I will you see you as a highfalutin snob. Which you truly are.’

  ‘If we are both so bad, we deserve one another.’

  ‘True, I hadn’t thought of that.’ She calmed down. ‘Of course there are other factors. You would have to stomach the mortification of Wickham as a brother-in-law.’

  He looked away with an anguished expression, as if recalling a distressing memory. ‘I would prefer not to invite your sister to Pemberley, with or without her husband.’

  ‘On that point I could not agree more.’ She sighed. ‘Am I fretting too much?’

  ‘On the contrary, there is much in what you say. Love can indeed be blind, and marriage should be approached as the Book of Common Prayer demands: reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly …’

  Elizabeth nodded, relaxing. ‘We are of one mind, then. A lengthy trip to England awaits. We will take our time, and see what develops.’

  34

  May 1815

  Darcy sat opposite Elizabeth at a coffee house, just a short walk from the Maximilian Hotel on the river Inn at Innsbruck. Fraulein Edelmann was away visiting a musician friend, Herr Doktor Straub, who was to accompany her at a recital that evening. They had said farewell to the von Essens, their companions on the trail through Brixen and Brenner. Now it was time for a parting of the ways: Fraulein Edelmann would travel east to Salzburg; the von Essens north to Munich; and he and Elizabeth would go west to Lake Constance, the source of the Rhine.

  The day was warm. They sat outside under sun shades with a view of the Golden Roof, a construction of gilded copper tiles overhanging a balcony, ordered over 300 years before by Emperor Maximilian I, and now the city’s most famous landmark. Elizabeth, looking rested after a night at the comfortable Maximilian, was enjoying strudel with coffee—very much the speciality of the house, and Darcy’s choice as well.

  ‘Such a fragrance.’ She breathed deeply. ‘It makes me question whether the coffee we drink at home is worthy of the name. You should hear Hilda on the subject.’

  ‘Is that what you talk of during the night?’

  She smiled. ‘No, except as a supporting argument for her main theme: the superiority of Austria over all other countries. Pick any domain—art, music, literature, food, and Vienna is pre-eminent, with Salzburg a close runner-up. The Viennese coffee house is the apex of social refinement. Indeed, her only quarrel with Bonaparte is that he put coffee houses out of business by blocking the importation of beans from the British Isles. Otherwise, like many people we have met on our travels, she grudgingly admires him.’

  ‘With some reason,’ Darcy said. ‘In many countries he has left behind better roads and a better system of law.’

  She regarded him teasingly. ‘You would not dare say that in England.’

  ‘Do not mistake me; I believe Napoleon must be overthrown. But his story is in a sense a tragedy. A man who could have advanced European civilisation is destroyed by over-ambition and nepotism.’

  ‘And blocking imports of coffee beans.’

  He smiled, enjoying the miracle of a conversation with Elizabeth in which there was no undercurrent of discord. ‘Are you disappointed not to be playing tonight?’

  She shook her head. ‘It will be a pleasure to sit back and enjoy the performance. I want to hear how an expert plays the pieces I have learned.’ She made a moue. ‘Pity about the money.’

  ‘Have you been paid for the others?’

  ‘Not yet, but Hilda has kept records and will settle up tonight. I am to receive 24 ducats.’

  ‘We can use every coin.’

  ‘May I ask exactly how we are placed?’

  ‘I wrote down a budget last night after consulting Herr von Essen, who has travelled extensively in the German Confederation. I can show you the figures later, but the outcome is that we have enough to reach Brussels if we travel by chaise to Lake Constance then by boat along the Rhine.’

  ‘And after Brussels?’

  ‘I have written to my bank in London instructing them to send a further letter of credit, to await collection at the main Brussels post office. We can then hire a carriage and proceed in greater comfort to Ostend, where ferries leave for the Kent coast.’

  ‘Still a long way from home.’

  ‘With an early start we could reach Rosings by dusk.’

  Elizabeth blinked, her eyes moist. ‘And thence, Gracechurch Street, and Longbourn. But I fear Lady Catherine will not wish Rosings to be polluted by persons such as myself.’

  ‘You could stay overnight with Mrs Collins.’

  ‘Not if her ladyship disapproves.’

  ‘Then let us go directly to London.’

  She brightened. ‘Let us do that.’

  ‘So, our last night,’ Fraulein Edelmann said.

  Elizabeth sponged her arms as Gretchen helped Hilda out of the silk dress she had worn for the concert. ‘Perhaps from tomorrow I’ll be able to get some sleep at last.’

  ‘Ja?’ Hilda drew herself up haughtily. ‘And what is your problem? Do I snore?’

  ‘You talk.’

  ‘And what about you, English madam?’

  Elizabeth smiled. In the privacy of their room, Fraulein Edelmann’s normally dignified manner gave way to an impertinent banter that bordered on rudeness. ‘I know, I talk too. I never said it was
your fault.’

  ‘So you are fussing over nothing. As usual.’ Hilda gave instructions in German to the maid, who curtseyed and left.

  Elizabeth carried a candle to her bedside table as Hilda climbed in the other side. ‘Do you want to read?’

  ‘Blow it out. My mind is buzzing from the recital.’

  ‘I loved the new piece from Don Giovanni.’

  ‘Or sai chi l’onore. It means, now you know who stole my honour.’

  ‘Where is stole?’

  ‘Next line. The sentence is shuffled to fit the rhyme.’

  ‘I see why you didn’t include it before. The piano part was too fast for my fingers.’

  ‘The aria isn’t suitable for me either. It needs a stronger voice.’ Hilda hesitated. ‘I hope you were not upset that Herr Straub took over as accompanist.’

  Elizabeth sat up a little, shaking her head. ‘It was instructive. I could play them better now.’

  ‘Of course he is more accomplished, but I have liked performing with you. You listen, and adapt to what I am doing. I shall miss you.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Both of you.’

  ‘You mean, Elizabeth Bennet and Rebecca Ashley?’

  ‘No, idiot. I mean your Mr Darcy.’

  Elizabeth fell silent, wondering what lay behind this declaration. ‘Why do you say my Mr Darcy?’

  ‘Because I am not blind.’

  ‘I have been wondering …’ She turned to face Hilda. ‘You have been very attentive to Mr Darcy, since Verona.’

  ‘You think I am your rival?’ She waved a hand. ‘Allow me to reassure you. Mr Darcy is an intelligent man. I talk with him because I like intelligent conversation.’

  ‘Which apparently you cannot get from me.’

  Hilda strangled a laugh. ‘You said it, liebchen.’

  ‘You must have admirers among your musical friends. Herr Schubert for instance.’

  ‘Oh, nonsense,’ Hilda snapped. She turned away, as if offended, then continued reflectively, ‘One point I would grant you, and it is this. I don’t expect the gentlemen to fall at my feet, but I do like to be noticed. I am young, I can sing, I can afford elegant dresses—why should they not notice me? It disturbed me, when we first met, that Mr Darcy had eyes only for you. It occurred to me later that he might be making a special effort, since you were passing yourselves off as a married couple. After Verona, having at last learned your identity, I did my best to gain his attention. He enjoyed my singing, I believe, and also our conversations—but there his interest ended. It is you that he has always wanted. In your company he comes alive, as do you, in his.’ She sighed. ‘There is no accounting for tastes. Who in his right mind could overlook a gifted Austrian mezzo-soprano in favour of an Englishwoman who plays wrong notes?’

  Elizabeth snorted. ‘Spare us the crocodile tears. You never sought Mr Darcy’s affections. You wanted only to tease me. As for that gentleman and myself, it is true that we have become somewhat, ah, closer these last days.’

  ‘You have always been close.’

  ‘If so, I could not bring myself to acknowledge it.’ Elizabeth spread her arms. ‘I feel so—unworthy.’

  ‘It’s not a feeling, it’s a fact.’ Hilda dived under the covers with a cackle. ‘You are unworthy.’

  ‘Most amusing.’ Elizabeth aimed a punch at the hump under the bedclothes. ‘Anyway, why quarrel over a mere gentleman? Have you no sisterly instincts? Surely it is the gentlemen who are unworthy of us.’

  Hilda peeped out. ‘Even a paragon like Mr Darcy?’

  Elizabeth fell back against her pillow. ‘To be honest, he is daunting. Massive estate. £10000 pounds a year. House in town. And his family! Lady this, Earl that. Even his sister is known for her exquisite performance on the piano.’

  ‘Better than you?’

  ‘Undoubtedly.’

  ‘Have you heard her play?’

  Elizabeth sighed. ‘We have never met.’

  ‘Then how do you know?’ Hilda sat up and faced her. ‘You’ve improved a lot during our rehearsals. You probably learned even more from the obsessive Carandini.’

  Elizabeth yawned, feeling suddenly exhausted. ‘All this is conjecture anyway. I’m not sure I ought to marry Mr Darcy, even assuming he still wants me by the time we get home.’

  ‘It will work out. You will see.’

  Elizabeth said goodnight and rolled onto her side, but it was a long time before sleep came.

  35

  They were travelling west at last, through the Fernpass, a route named Via Claudia Augusta after its Roman founder, the Emperor Claudius. In deference to his budget, Darcy had opted for the stagecoach rather than hiring a chaise. They had set off early with two horses, then two more were added for the climb to Lake Blindsee. Other travellers joined, all seemingly local; except for nods and bows there was no communication. Fraulein Edelmann would be on her way to her beloved Salzburg; the von Essens, to Munich. Except for Burgess, now perched on the roof, he was alone with Elizabeth.

  They rounded a corner and Elizabeth, who was facing forward, pointed out of the window.

  ‘Is it not wondrous?’

  Darcy leaned over and saw an expanse of gleaming water far beneath them, much of it hidden by precipitous slopes forested with pine. He looked back at Elizabeth’s excited face, and felt for a moment completely happy.

  ‘Never have I seen a deeper blue.’

  ‘Turquoise too, in the shallows. Is it Lake Brindsee?’

  ‘It should be. We have been travelling four hours.’

  She pointed into the distance. ‘Snow on the peaks.’

  ‘There are high mountains hereabouts. Some I believe have never been scaled.’

  ‘To think that Roman legions once passed.’

  He smiled. ‘Not long ago so did Napoleon, on his way to conquering Italy.’

  She sniffed. ‘No doubt the innkeepers sing his praises for improvements to the road.’

  ‘We will find out soon enough: there is a retreat overlooking the lake.’

  While the horses were changed for the stage to Reutte, where they would seek rooms for the night, Darcy accompanied Elizabeth into the hostel, where a dozen local travellers were lunching. They surveyed the fare, which consisted mostly of sausage meat and potatoes swimming in grease, and Elizabeth winced.

  ‘I would rather go hungry.’

  ‘We have an hour.’ Darcy turned, looking for Burgess. ‘If you are agreeable, Miss Bennet, I believe we have ingredients for a picnic.’

  They found a bench, on pastureland a few yards from the road, and Burgess opened a small hamper and drew out rolls, cheese, and fruit from the Innsbruck market, and a half-bottle of Tyrolese Riesling wine. The air at this elevation was cool and scented with pine; the meadow was lush and filled with flowers both familiar and strange. He noticed buttercups and forget-me-nots, and clumps of a thin blue-purple plant which Elizabeth identified as Alpine Honeysuckle. Beneath them, the meadow fell sharply to the lake; beyond was a series of sharp peaks, lined up in a row like teeth.

  ‘Heavenly.’ Elizabeth bit into a cheese roll. ‘How clever of you to bring provisions.’

  ‘Thank Burgess.’ Darcy glanced round at the servant, now returning to the hostel in pursuit of sausage and ale.

  Alone now, they ate in silence before he continued:

  ‘Are you comfortable travelling with no maid or companion?’

  ‘What else can we do? The priority is to cross the continent before war starts, or we run out of money.’

  ‘I’m sorry to leave you in this situation.’

  She touched his arm. ‘Do not worry on my account. In truth, I am grateful for the opportunity to talk alone.’

  He nodded. ‘Of course we will usually remain in the company of strangers. I wonder what they make of us.’

  ‘They probably believe us married.’

  ‘What if our fellow-travellers speak English? We need to decide what account to give of ourselves.’

  She smiled, as if at a pleasurable m
emory. ‘We could pass again as Mr and Mrs Ashley.’

  ‘I gave Commander Graf my word of honour.’

  She smiled. ‘Of course your honour must be preserved at all costs.’

  ‘I wonder …’ He paused, afraid of going too far. ‘If pressed, we might say we were engaged.’

  To his relief, she laughed, taking his suggestion lightly. ‘Remember, I have not agreed to marry you.’

  ‘I know. I am the last man in the world …’

  She buried her face in her hands. ‘Am I to be tormented by that blunder until the end of my days?’

  ‘Believe me, the torment was mutual.’

  She met his eye, suddenly serious. ‘I suppose it must have been. And yet, when I look back, I am embarrassed mostly by my own folly, not by the pain I caused. Is that not curious? We blurt words out unthinkingly, unaware of their power.’

  ‘I made a similar mistake when Charles pressed me to dance with you at the Meryton ball.’

  She laughed. ‘Only tolerable! I shan’t allow you to forget that in a hurry.’

  He sighed. ‘Can we please leave the past alone and return to the topic? I appreciate that we cannot truly be engaged. For one thing, you prefer to wait; for another, we are not in a position to ask your father’s consent. However, if our relationship is questioned, it might be simpler to bend the truth a little.’

  She thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘I think that would be justified, among people that we will never meet again.’

  They fell silent, and Darcy breathed deeply as his eyes explored the play of light and shade across the peaks. He took a corkscrew and two cut-glass tumblers from the hamper, opened the Riesling, and offered a glass to Elizabeth.

  ‘What is the toast?’ she smiled.

  ‘To the people back home.’

  She clinked glasses. ‘Yes, may we see them soon. And yet …’ She faced him. ‘Despite all that has happened, I am happy. To be here, in this majestic place, and to be with you.’

  Overwhelmed, he scarcely dared reply.

  36

  Two weeks later

  A bump woke her. Her bunk rocked from side to side as the boat settled. Outside it was light, and men were shouting in German. Elizabeth sat up and surveyed the cabin. It was small, no more than ten feet by six, but cleverly appointed, with the bunk facing a narrow wardrobe and wicker divan, a locker overhead, and a dresser with a marble bowl and tap. Darcy had pressed her to accept a luxury cabin, but she had declined, realising that money was tight. Their trunks were below in steerage, where Burgess would have laid his pallet.