Authors: M. A. Sandiford
39
Darcy paced the deck of the
Eisvogel
,
too agitated to sit in the lounge cabin and read. They were approaching Koblenz,
and the scenery was spectacular, with hills on the right and a gorge on the
left. He had never seen such a concentration of castles, many of them dating from
medieval times and elaborated over the centuries. In the distance he saw the
outline of what must be Rheinstein Castle, which according to his map had been
built in 1316 and was now a ruin. In the late afternoon sun, a more romantic
spectacle could hardly be imagined—yet romance appeared far from Elizabeth’s
mind. After a silent breakfast she had pleaded tiredness and shut herself away
in her cabin.
On reflection, he traced her sullen mood
to the walk back from the Mannheim
Paradeplatz
, where he had spoken of
his university years, and disclosed Wickham’s attempt to elope with Georgiana.
Had he upset Elizabeth by reminding her of Lydia’s indiscretion? There was no
way of knowing: he had never had much success in understanding her thinking, or
predicting her reactions.
Weary of the uncertainty, he passed
along the central corridor and tapped on her door.
‘One moment.’ After some frantic
activity within, she appeared in the doorway. ‘Oh. I expected a servant. What
do you want?’
He flinched at her unyielding tone. ‘To
make sure you are well, and to invite you to view a castle against the setting
sun.’
She made as if to close the door. ‘I am
busy.’
Gently he asked, ‘Elizabeth, what is the
matter?’
‘I’m not sure you should make free with
my name.’
He stared at her. ‘We agreed to behave
as if …’
‘Yes, yes.’ She exhaled irritably. ‘But
that was before.’
‘Before what?’
‘Surely that is obvious.’
‘I am not a mind-reader, Miss Bennet.’
He retreated a step, losing patience with her. ‘However, my senses are
sufficiently acute to tell when I am not wanted. Good day madam.’
He bowed, and was halfway along the
corridor when she called after him, ‘Wait! I will come.’
He turned, gratified to have won this
little battle—whatever it was. Elizabeth emerged, buttoning a spencer
jacket.
‘Good idea. The air cools in the evening.’
‘I should apologise.’ She came to join
him. ‘I believe I have reason to be upset, but that is no excuse for rudeness.
If I was rude.’
He said nothing, and she stamped her
foot. ‘Well?’
‘Were you rude? Yes.’
She glared at him. ‘Whatever happened to
gallantry?’
‘With people I respect, I prefer
honesty.’
‘A back-handed compliment, but I will be
grateful for small mercies. Shall we see this splendid vista before the sun
goes down?’
Elizabeth stood close beside him,
the wind flapping the ribbons of her bonnet. ‘You are right, as usual. A beautiful
sight. Why so many castles here?’
‘I assume the older ones were built for
military purposes in locations that afford a long view while being difficult to
attack. More recently, princes added parodies of the old castles as symbols of
their stature.’
‘Thank you for dragging me from my
cabin. It would be folly to miss this.’
He looked down, and was surprised to see
her eyes moist. ‘My dear Miss Bennet …’
‘You can say
Elizabeth
. I was in
a sulk.’
He hazarded a smile. ‘I would like to
ask why, but it seems this is forbidden by the rules. I have to guess.’
She smiled back. ‘In which case, making
allowance for your limited powers of discernment, I will explain. I am upset
because I want to marry you more than I have ever wanted anything, and now
discover that you have courted me these last weeks in full knowledge that a union
between us is impossible.’
He stared at her. ‘Impossible? What do
you mean?’
She threw up her hands. ‘Is it not
obvious?’
‘Not to me.’ He lowered his voice,
afraid that their exchange would attract notice. ‘I beg you, Elizabeth. Place
no more reliance on thought transference. Just tell me.’
She leaned across and whispered,
‘Because of your sister. Imagine! After all that she has endured, to learn of
your intention to marry
Mr Wickham’s sister-in-law
.’
He hesitated, wondering how this point
had escaped him. Eventually he replied, ‘It is certainly an announcement that
would have to be presented with delicacy.’
‘You mean, one that should never be made
at all.’
He looked away at the sky, now deep red
behind the silhouette of the castle. After a long silence, he replied:
‘Let us think about it. I understand your
concern, but perhaps the impediment is less troubling than you fear. I do try
to protect my sister, but one cannot insulate people entirely from life’s
travails. An embarrassment that might be only temporary should not override the
desire of two people to spend their lives together.’
To his relief, Elizabeth received this
thoughtfully, rather than launching an immediate rebuttal.
‘Agreed,’ she said slowly. She slapped
the rail, as if in irritable exhaustion. ‘Why is life always so difficult?’
‘I believe it’s called the human
condition.’
She sighed. ‘If only Mr Wickham and his
kind could be erased from the surface of the earth.’
‘Do you really believe that?’
‘Yes.’ She took a deep breath. ‘All
right, no. Anyway, such interventions are beyond my power, so it makes no
difference what I believe.’
‘Remember, we cannot be sure that there
is any problem at all. Perhaps there is, but we are only guessing. We can
discuss how the situation should be presented to my sister, see how she reacts,
then think again.’
Elizabeth shivered, and wrapped her arms
around her jacket. ‘I haven’t eaten since breakfast.’
‘I assumed you had taken luncheon in
your room.’
She shook her head. ‘I was confiding my
anxieties to the new journal.’
‘Then let us dine, and talk of other
things.’
She took his arm as the boat rocked in
the wind, and he guided her to the steps leading to the upper deck.
40
June 1815
After a week of maddeningly slow
progress, including a two-day wait in Koblenz for a gale to pass, they had disembarked
finally at Cologne. The landscape was now flat, and suitable for fast transit
by road—if one could find a carriage. They had taken rooms at a hotel,
and with the help of the manager booked places on a stagecoach heading to
Brussels via Aachen and Liège. The carriage was shared with a Prussian officer,
Kapitaan von Staufen, and his wife Mathilde, travelling further south to Ligny
where the captain was joining his brigade.
They set off in the late morning on the
leg to Düren. The day was overcast, but fortunately for Burgess, who sat
outside with two drivers and Frau von Staufen’s maid, the rain held off, and
there was little wind. Elizabeth, exhausted after an uncomfortable night, dozed
while Darcy made conversation with the captain. To follow von Staufen’s
laboured English closely was beyond her powers of concentration, but the
essence was reassuring. The
timetable
of which Darcy had spoken was
still in operation. Coalition forces were building up around France in preparation
for an invasion in July—by which time, all going well, she and Darcy
would be across the channel and restored to their homes and families.
Elizabeth had been surprised at first to
see the captain accompanied by his wife. He was a genial man in his
mid-forties, with a round face and strong-looking body running to fat. Frau von
Straufen was of similar age and build, but displayed a more determined countenance
and was perhaps the driving force in the partnership. When Darcy tactfully
asked whether it was safe for
Elizabeth
to travel so near to the French
border, he was told in no uncertain terms that it was
perfectly
safe,
and normal practice, for the wives of officers to join their husbands at the
front. In the event of an attack, wives and servants would retreat northwards,
ready to tend to their husbands after the battle and accompany them on the
journey home.
After the first stop at a hostelry, von
Staufen produced a flask of brandy and poured a tot for his wife, followed by a
larger ration for himself. Frau von Straufen explained to Elizabeth that the
liquor was
medicinal
, and would keep them warm on a chilly day.
Hospitably the flask was offered to Darcy, but he, like Elizabeth, politely
declined. Frau von Straufen commented that cognac was particularly efficacious
as a remedy for hangover. Ten minutes later, both the captain and his wife were
asleep, and Elizabeth felt able to speak freely.
‘Did they ask about us?’ she whispered.
He shook his head. ‘Only where we were
bound.’
‘Where is Ligny?’
‘Near the border. They will change
coaches at Liège.’
‘How fortunate the captain speaks
English. Do you think his information is reliable?’
‘It confirms what the newspapers have
been saying. British and Prussian troops are assembled below Brussels, waiting
for the other coalition forces to arrive on France’s eastern and southern
borders. Until mobilisation is complete, there will be no invasion.’
‘The captain would hardly bring his wife
to Ligny if it were unsafe.’
‘Indeed.’
They relaxed, and talked of other things.
‘I have been puzzling over the
first essay in
A New View of Society
.’ Elizabeth said. ‘Owen says that
in principle one could order society so that people had
any
desired
character. We are thus virtuous, or ignorant, or venal, in consequence of our
training
.’
Darcy nodded. ‘It is a striking claim.’
‘And surely false. Take any
family—my own for example. My sisters Mary and Lydia grew up in very
similar circumstances, yet their characters are opposite.’
‘At least some attributes must depend on
how an individual is treated. You can make a child ignorant by withholding
teaching. A puppy beaten by a cruel master is more likely to bite.’
Elizabeth smiled. ‘I overheard once an
argument between my father and the Vicar of Meryton. It seems that as
Anglicans, we believe that every person inherits a
disposition for evil
which
stems from Adam’s disobedience in the Garden of Eden. My father claimed this
was poppycock, since a baby knows nothing of Adam and Eve and therefore cannot
be influenced by their supposed misdeed.’
Darcy raised his eyebrows. ‘How did the
vicar reply?’
‘He turned purple and said in a
roundabout way that a small child may experience temptation without being able
to articulate the cause. I think my father was winding him up for amusement.’
Darcy looked out of the window at flat
fields planted with wheat. ‘Still, I see some merit in the idea that we are
born with desires that must be curbed through training. We are greedy; we try
to get our own way without considering others.’
‘But if our church is correct, training
is not enough. We must be saved from damnation through baptism and instruction
in the true faith.’ She grinned. ‘Which is unfortunate for children reared by
heathens.’
‘None of this contradicts Robert Owen,’
Darcy said. ‘He says that circumstances shape character. Baptism and religious
instruction are merely examples of such circumstances.’
‘I imagine a baby.’ Suddenly serious,
Elizabeth met his eye, and continued in a whisper. ‘Ours. A boy, let us say.
The heir to Pemberley. We see him in his cradle, gurgling, his arms reaching
although there is nothing to grasp, his features midway between yours and mine.
Must we really see him as a bundle of sinful urges that can be curtailed only
through baptism into a particular creed?’
Darcy blinked, moved by the image. ‘I
doubt I would see him in that way.’
‘Yet that is what we are enjoined to
do.’
‘I would not take the dogmas so
seriously, Elizabeth. These are traditional ceremonies that can be interpreted
in a variety of ways.’
She tilted her head, challenging him.
‘And how do you interpret them?’
He glanced at the von Staufens, who were
still sleeping off their earlier indulgences. ‘I accept that there must be a God
who created the world and populated it with life. As to the various
denominations, I cannot say with any confidence which, if any, is correct. Most
people conform to the religion in which they grew up, and I see no reason not
to do the same. As for children, my experience has been that if raised with firmness
and kindness most turn out well, while a few do not. Why that should be I have
no idea.’
She smiled teasingly. ‘Is that what you
said when you enrolled at the University of Cambridge?’
‘You mean the religious test?’ He
suppressed a laugh. ‘I thought it best to confine myself to the 39 articles.’
‘Ha! And I thought you an honest man.’
There was a stirring on her left, and
Frau von Staufen said in carefully correct English, ‘Please, what are the 39
articles?’
Elizabeth reddened as she wondered
how much of their conversation had been overheard.
Darcy answered. ‘Paragraphs, dating from Queen
Elizabeth’s reign, which summarise the doctrine of the Anglican church.’
‘Ah.’ Frau von Staufen glanced at her
husband, who was still snoring. ‘Perhaps a shorter version of the 95 theses
which Martin Luther nailed to the door of All Saints’ Church in Wittenberg?’
Elizabeth, out of her depth, waited for
Darcy to reply.
‘No, although I believe there was some
overlap.’
The captain’s wife turned to Elizabeth.
‘Excuse me, you are sceptical of the significance of baptism?’
Elizabeth blinked, not wishing to get
into a dispute. ‘I see no harm in the ceremony, which serves to welcome a new
arrival into the community.’
‘Ah!’ Frau von Staufen raised a finger.
‘But there are people who say that babies just a few weeks old are not ready to
choose which religious community they wish to join.’
‘That is why we have confirmation,’
Darcy said.
‘In Prussia we have Anabaptists,’ Frau
von Staufen continued. ‘Also called Mennonites. They originated in Switzerland
and the Tyrol, and to escape persecution migrated to Prussia and the
Netherlands, even to America. They believe that baptism should be delayed until
adulthood. Also, that violence is always wrong, even in self-defence.’
Elizabeth glanced at the sleeping
captain. ‘I assume no Anabaptists follow your husband’s profession.’
In the corner of her eye she noticed
Darcy smile at this remark, but Frau von Staufen remained impassive. ‘That is
right. We are
Reformed Church
. Calvinist. But I have Mennonite friends
and they are good people. They take their lead from the Gospels, especially the
Sermon on the Mount.’
‘Do we have Mennonites in Britain?’
Elizabeth asked Darcy.
‘Very few, I imagine. Most Englishmen
are practical, and accept war as a necessary evil.’
‘Still, I admire the Mennonites for
their consistency.’
Darcy nodded. ‘They do no harm, which is
more than can be said for most people.’
‘How cruel to persecute innocuous people
who refuse to fight back.’
‘
Ja.
’ Frau von Staufen waggled a
finger. ‘But not in Prussia. Our king, Frederick William III, is working for a
union of all Protestant churches. He is Calvinist, like us, but his wife Queen
Louise, now sadly no more, was Lutheran. We have many traditions under, how do
you say, the same
umbrella
, and no more persecutions.’
There was a grunt from the seat
opposite, and the captain yawned, and nodded genially to the gathering. Frau
von Staufen fell silent, as if conversation were no longer possible while her
husband was awake. Elizabeth turned back to Darcy, wondering what he thought
about such a bewildering array of religious viewpoints.