Authors: M. A. Sandiford
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
memory. ‘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.