Authors: M. A. Sandiford
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.
They had joined the
Sankt Goar
at
Basel, after bypassing the turbulent stretch of the Rhine at Lake Constance and
taking the main stagecoach route via Zurich. From Basel the Rhine was calmer,
and riverboats drifted with the current across Germany and the Netherlands to
Rotterdam, assisted when necessary by oars or sail. The boat had ten cabins
laid out in two rows, each ending in a narrow staircase leading to the upper
deck, where meals were served in an enclosed lounge.
Excited, Elizabeth dressed quickly and
followed a central corridor to the front deck. It was an overcast morning which
might turn to rain, and they were docked beside a row of warehouses to take on
provisions. On the upper deck people were already breakfasting, and she spotted
Darcy seated at the back reading a newspaper.
She joined him, acknowledging stiff bows
from two men in military uniform at the next table. ‘Good morning. Where are
we?’
‘Strasbourg.’ He handed her the
newspaper. ‘Can you make sense of this?’
She glanced at the headline, understanding
only the word
Napoleon
, and put the paper aside. ‘I know three German
words, and I answer with one of them.
Nein
.’
‘I’ve been trying to fathom it this last
half-hour, with help from the gentlemen on my left. It seems a
timetable
has been drawn up. Armies are assembling like chessmen laid out on a board.
French troops are stationed at the borders, awaiting an invasion.’ He pointed towards
the dock. ‘The French
Armée du Rhin
is quartered just a few miles west
of here. On the opposite bank we will soon pass the Austrian and Bavarian
forces. Their numbers grow daily and may rise to 100,000 men.’
Elizabeth accepted coffee, and a basket of
bread and pastries, marvelling that these refinements of civilisation continued
as they navigated the ribbon of territory separating the armies. ‘You must
guide me, Mr Darcy, for I understand little of war. Should we not be alarmed?’
He smiled, taking a refill of coffee.
‘No, because as I mentioned before,
there is a timetable
. First the
forces assemble, then they wait patiently until the date for hostilities to
begin. And that will be roughly two months from now, in July. By which time …’
He looked up to meet her eye. ‘We will be safely home.’
She smiled back, warmed by his optimism.
‘We still have to reach Brussels, remember, which is only 50 miles from the
French border.’
He nodded. ‘True, but there too fortune
should favour us. British forces are assembling in that very area, ready to
invade France from the north. We will travel under the protection of our own
army.’
She breathed deeply, allowing herself to
hope. In just a month they might be home.
They were moving again, past
streets with inns and shops where Bavarian infantry in blue coats and white
breeches mingled with the locals.
Elizabeth turned back to Darcy. ‘Tell me
something about yourself. Your family, for instance.’
‘You have met the principals, except for
my sister.’
‘But the history.’ She reddened,
recalling that his parents, unlike hers, had both passed away. ‘If the memory
is not painful.’
He smiled. ‘I should have expected this.
Before accepting my hand, you demand to check my credentials.’ He thought for a
few seconds. ‘It is really a story of three families, the Fitzwilliams, the
Darcys, and the de Bourghs. The old Earl Fitzwilliam had two daughters, Anne
and Catherine, and a son who is the current Earl. Their estate is at Matlock,
near the Peaks. My mother Lady Anne was shy as a girl, but her beauty and sweet
nature drew many admirers in her first season, amongst them Mr Darcy of
Pemberley. Lady Catherine, as you can imagine, was neither shy nor
sweet-natured, but her determination produced a similar outcome, and before
long she too found a husband. Last to marry was my uncle, who has two sons: the
future earl, and Colonel Fitzwilliam.’ He spread his arms. ‘The result is that
I spend much time in transit between four places: Pemberley, of course; my
house in town; Rosings; and Matlock.’
‘And your childhood?’
‘Idyllic, when I was a small boy. But
sadness intruded with the death of my brother from sour throat, and two other
siblings stillborn. Physicians advised that my mother was too weak to tolerate
another confinement, but she wished to try, and to our delight Georgiana was
born. But happiness was short-lived, for soon afterwards my mother’s health faded,
while I was sent away to school.’
Elizabeth extended her hand towards his.
‘How cruel to leave home at such a time.’
‘It was usual. Expected.’
‘Which school?’
‘Harrow.’ He looked away, as if in
recollection. ‘Not a long journey from our house in town. I arrived in 1798, two
years before a boy named Robert Peel, of whom you may have heard.’
‘Was it through your misbehaviour that
he perceived the need for a professional constabulary?’
‘By no means, madam. But the school was
undeniably rough in those days. Fighting, swearing and drinking were rampant,
even among the aspiring Dukes and Earls in the headmaster’s house. In fact
their behaviour was worse than ours.’ He smiled. ‘Byron was a case in point.’
She gasped. ‘You knew the poet?’
‘He was two years below me, but what an
impression he made! Such a dishevelled trouble-maker, and a club foot to boot,
yet he soon had a loyal following.’
She shook her head, overwhelmed by the
disparity between the rich variety of his experience and the poverty of hers. ‘So
what did you
do
there?’
‘In the morning, lessons. Latin. Greek.
History. Some mathematics. Construing. Writing verse.’
‘Science? Religion?’
‘Very little of either. Which was
strange, since almost all the teachers had taken holy orders. We attended the
parish church on Sundays, but there was no insistence on piety, and many boys
merely gossiped.’
‘And after lessons?’
‘Sport was popular. Swimming, fencing,
boxing, skating in the winter. Older boys raced horses, or went rat-catching
with ferrets. Many fished or shot.’
‘Were you happy there? Did you make
friends?’
He considered. ‘It was austere and
traditional, and for many a preparation for the army. But with such a variety
of companions, I did find some who were congenial.’
‘How were you regarded?’
‘Oh, as a sobersides, since I studied
diligently and took no part in gambling and drinking. Luckily I was tall and
strongly built, so the bullies learned early on to leave me alone.’
She regarded him teasingly. ‘No wonder
those bandits ran away. Shall we take a turn on the deck?’
They descended and walked round to the
bow, still talking.
37
By mid-afternoon a continuous drizzle
was falling, almost obscuring the outskirts of Karlsruhe. After lunch Elizabeth
had retired to her cabin to rest, leaving Darcy at a loose end. He had
struggled through a polite conversation with one of the officers, who appeared
interested only in lauding the Bavarian infantry and abusing the French. A
beaker of mulled wine raised his spirits momentarily, but he had no wish to
dull his brain by over-indulging, especially in the company of Elizabeth. He
opened one of the few books he had brought from England, Robert Owen’s
A New
View of Society
.
The author was a mill owner who had
bought land in Lanarkshire, not far from Glasgow, and used it to carry out what
was in effect a social experiment, demonstrating that a mill could be run to
the benefit of its workers as well as its owners. His ideas were challenged by
his partners, who believed that welfare reforms cost money that might have been
better diverted to their own pockets; but instead of giving way Owen bought
them out, found new partners, and continued as before. Interspersed with this
narrative were philosophical claims about human nature: for instance, that
character was not inborn, but shaped by experience.
He heard footsteps, and Elizabeth joined
him.
‘Aha.’ She pointed to the wine glass.
‘As soon as my back is turned you return to your cups.’
‘You think I behave myself only in your
presence?’
She waved this away. ‘I am talking
gammon as usual. Good wine?’
‘Mulled with cinnamon and sugar. Warming
on such a dreary day.’
‘I will order coffee to clear my head.’
She pointed to the book. ‘Don’t stop on my account.’
‘Have you anything to read?’
‘All my books were left behind in
Venice.’
‘I have a recent novel by Sir Walter
Scott, if you are interested in the Jacobite rebellion.
Waverley
.’
She shook her head. ‘Thank you for your
kind offer, but after weeks viewing soldiers on the march I am weary of such
pursuits. Have you nothing more suited to my feminine sensibilities? Fanny
Burney?’
‘I admire Mrs Burney and bought her
latest novel, but left it at my town house for Georgiana’s benefit.’
‘What you are reading now?’
He held up the book, and she nodded
immediately. ‘My father showed me a review in a literary magazine. It caused
quite a stir.’ She smiled affectionately. ‘One thing I like about you is that
your tastes are so wide-ranging. I can never be sure what you will think about
anything.’
‘Many would consider that a reason to
mistrust me.’
‘To me it is a delight. But of course
that is because I have such faith in your dependability. I could scarcely feel
any other way, given all you have done for my family.’
He looked away, gratified but
embarrassed. ‘Some compensation for my addiction to the grape?’
She looked round to order coffee from a
waiter. ‘Do you think well of the author?’
He duplicated her order. ‘I would have
to confess a general prejudice against men of his kind. Owen is, after all, a
factory owner, a breed normally concerned only in accumulating vast wealth so
that they can afford country estates and the other trappings of rank.’
‘Indeed?’ She squared up to him, her
eyes glinting with challenge. ‘They might retort that they seek through effort
that which you have obtained merely through birth.’
‘True, but there is a difference. Having
been raised as a gentleman, I have been taught to exercise responsibilities as
well as privileges. I see my relationship with my tenants as a trade, to our
mutual benefit. In return for their work, I not only pay them fairly but do my
best to protect them, especially when they fall on hard times. This cannot be
said of most factory owners. They desire the rewards, but offer nothing but a
pittance in return. Children are forced to work long hours. Men too sick to
work are discarded, and their families left to starve.’
She frowned, reluctant to concede the
point. ‘I suspect you are painting with too broad a brush. I can believe that
Pemberley is a well-run estate where the poor are treated charitably. This
cannot be said for all estates; nor is it plausible that
all
factory-owners are as voracious as you claim.’
‘Most are.’ He waved this aside. ‘But not
Robert Owen. He has provided good housing for his mill workers, and schools for
their children. They work fewer hours, leaving time for rest and diversion; as
a result they are healthier, and perform their duties more efficiently.’
She looked out of the window as a column
of soldiers came into view. ‘Reminiscent of Thomas More’s
Utopia
.’
He gaped, not for the first time amazed
by her pockets of eclectic learning. ‘I cannot wait to show you the library at
Pemberley.’
She smiled. ‘Aha. An added inducement.’
‘I must play all the cards in my hand.’
‘I see your ruse, Mr Darcy. You hope to
mould me into your paradigm of the
accomplished woman
. My poor little
mind is to be improved by
extensive reading
.’
He pushed the book across the table.
‘Why not begin with this? I need to stretch my legs.’
He finished his coffee and left her to
read alone.
38
Elizabeth explored the stationery
section of a bookshop near the
Paradeplatz
in Mannheim. Having spent
much of the previous afternoon with
A New View of Society
, and even
tried some chapters of
Waverley
, she had decided to forgo Darcy’s book
collection and dedicate herself instead to writing. In retrospect, she wondered
why this idea had not occurred to her before. Yes, she had described some of
the people and places encountered during her travels, but only in letters to
Jane—which might, for all she knew, go astray. How much better to keep a
journal.
They had docked at Mannheim that morning
to change boat, from the
Sankt Goar
to the
Eisvogel
, which would
take them along the so-called ‘heroic’ Rhine to the city of Bonn. Since the
Eisvogel
would depart in the afternoon, they had left Burgess to supervise the change-over,
and taken the opportunity to pass some time on dry land. The old part of the
city, set in the triangle between the Rhine and the river Necker, could be
reached by a five-minute walk across wooded parkland. They had proceeded first
to a money-changer, where she had handed over two of her precious ducats for a
bag of silver
thaler
, and thence to the post office. The cobbled streets
were laid out in a regular grid, framing residential blocks and grand open
squares; before long they had reached the fashionable shops and restaurants of
the
Paradeplatz
.
Darcy arrived at her side carrying maps
of their route through the German states and Kingdom of the Netherlands. ‘These
may help. No recent books in English, unfortunately. Have you had better luck?’
She showed him a leather-bound notebook,
octavo size, with fine-quality paper watermarked with the manufacturer and
year. ‘It’s an indulgence, but I would like this one. Light, portable, yet
robust enough to withstand the journey.’
‘I spotted a coffee house across the
square where we can sit outside.’
She smiled, warmed to see him in such
good spirits.
‘You wrote to Georgiana?’ she
asked.
Darcy stirred sugar into his coffee.
‘Yes, in London, although I cannot be sure she is still there. I hoped she would
remain with Colonel Fitzwilliam, but with the war restarting he will almost
certainly be called away. I should have news when we reach Brussels.’ He
regarded her anxiously. ‘Did you remember …’
She raised her eyes as if seeking divine
help. ‘Yes! I gave specific instructions, just as you advised, and have more
faith in Jane than you obviously have in me.’
‘I only hope our letters get through.’
‘Some must.’ Elizabeth looked away
across the square, wondering when her family would receive the letters dispatched
from Innsbruck and Basel. ‘At least we know for sure that they have been
posted
.
Not misappropriated by Signor Carandini.’
They watched as two elegant women strode
past carrying parasols and arguing in shrill voices. Darcy smiled, and said
gently, ‘You were going to tell me more of your childhood.’
‘You have the essence already,’
Elizabeth said. ‘Three families, Bennet, Gardiner, Phillips, that have bestridden
our nation’s history like a colossus. Plus Collins, but I did not encounter
that branch until later.’
‘I was wondering what happened after
Lydia put a frog in the piano stool.’
‘Oh, Mary opened it, you know, to take
out some music books, and was not amused at all.’
‘Did she scream?’
‘No. She replaced the frog in the garden
and lectured Lydia on kindness to dumb animals.’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘I wish I
could paint a more laudable picture, Mr Darcy, but in truth we were then what
we are now: five very silly and indulged young ladies.’
He smiled. ‘Your wiles do not deceive
me, Elizabeth. You exaggerate your family’s eccentricities so as to deter me
from marrying you.’
‘I merely seek to give you a fair chance.’
‘You will not change my feelings.’
She waved this away. ‘Tell me of your
career at Cambridge. I have always wondered what it was like to attend a
university.’
He sipped coffee, thinking. ‘At first it
seemed like a continuation of school by other means.’
‘To paraphrase Clausewitz.’
‘Ah, so now you change tactics and try
to scare me off by a daunting display of learning.’
‘Keep to the point, sir.’
‘The point? Oh, university. Yes, at St
John’s College, as in Harrow, our day comprised a long morning of study, then exercise,
then dinner at four o’clock. Evenings were usually passed in local taverns,
drinking, gambling, and debating. Late suppers were popular. Boar’s head, ham
and game pie, a bowl of punch to share.’
‘Did you study the same subjects?’
‘Yes, except that divinity was included.
In fact, that was the most striking difference. At Harrow, religion was
marginal; at Cambridge most graduates took holy orders. Only Anglicans were
allowed to study for a degree. When I applied to St John’s, I had to pass a
test of religious orthodoxy, which so far as I know is still required.’
‘Such piety hardly accords with the merry
debauchery that you were describing earlier. I mean, the drinking and
gambling.’
He sighed. ‘Indeed, and matters were
often far worse. Drunken undergraduates would roam the streets after the
taverns closed, getting into fights with the townspeople, and disrespecting
women.’
‘
Disrespecting women
.’ She
laughed. ‘I wonder what that means.’
‘I leave it to your imagination.’
‘I assume the upright young Darcy
abstained from these deplorable activities?’
‘Yes.’ He fell silent, looking far into
the distance. ‘But more than once I was obliged to clear up after the misadventures
of others. Who should be nameless.’
‘Not Byron again?’
‘No, he arrived later and was a Trinity
man.’
‘Who then?’
He hesitated. ‘A gentleman with whom you
are, unfortunately, already acquainted.’
She stared at him, open-mouthed. Surely
not Colonel Fitzwilliam? Or Mr Collins? Amused at the thought of the obsequious
clergyman having a misspent youth, she stifled her laugh as the truth dawned.
‘Mr Wickham?’ she whispered.
‘The same.’
‘Oh.’ She waited in case he wished to
elaborate, but his lips remained pressed together.
Eventually she continued: ‘No wonder you
were so angry when I foolishly defended him.’
‘Not your fault.’ He lowered his voice.
‘I had another reason, even more compelling.’
Again she waited. ‘May I ask …’
‘I explained in my letter.’
She coloured. ‘The one I refused to
read?’
He nodded. ‘It concerns Georgiana.’
She froze, and listened in horror as he
unfolded the story of Wickham’s attempted elopement.
Instinctively she covered his hand with
hers. ‘Please rest assured that I will mention this to no-one. Not Jane, and of
course not your sister should we ever meet.’
As they walked back to the dock, she was
struck by an awful thought. She had always seen Wickham’s marriage to Lydia as
an impediment: for how could Darcy tolerate such an in-law? But now she
understood that the situation was far worse.
Georgiana’s feelings had to be
considered too.
That her trusted and revered brother should become the
brother-in-law of the very man who had treated her so ill! Such a betrayal
would be unbearable. Unthinkable. In his right mind, Darcy would never
contemplate it …
She uncoupled her arm, and stared at the
ground ahead, evading his eye. Her sympathy was now replaced by anger.
Why
had he not told her before?
Why allow her to dream of a union that could
never be?