Mr. Darcy Vampyre (14 page)

They came to rest outside the Darcy
palazzo
. Elizabeth looked up at the impressive building, with its dusky pink frontage. Its piercings of elaborate arches led onto a shady terrace where dark shadows contrasted starkly with the brilliant patches of light. As she let her eyes travel upwards, she saw that it had three storeys, each one with its own colonnade.

The gondolier tied the gondola to one of the brightly coloured poles that rose from the water next to the steps and then Darcy disembarked, stepping out of the vessel and mounting to the landing platform with the sure-footedness of one used to such activity. He held out his hand to Elizabeth. She stood up cautiously and, lifting the hem of her skirt, she stepped out of the gondola, feeling it rock beneath her. She ascended the steps and then took Darcy's arm and together they walked under the Gothic arches.

Elizabeth felt the coolness close around her as she went from sunlight to shadow, and walked through into a shady courtyard before climbing a flight of stone steps to the
palazzo
's door.

They were met by the housekeeper who greeted Darcy respectfully and with warmth. Elizabeth was reminded of Mrs Reynolds, the Pemberley housekeeper, as both women clearly had a great deal of admiration for Darcy.

After welcoming them, the housekeeper showed them to a vast apartment. It was cool and softly lit by the ribbons of light drifting in from the cracks around the closed shutters. When the housekeeper opened the shutters, sunlight flooded in.

‘Well? Do you like it?' Darcy asked.

He watched Elizabeth joyfully as she spun round in the centre of the room, her head titled back to admire the magnificent paintings on the ceiling. She had seen many grand houses in England but nothing had prepared her for the sheer size and magnificence of the drawing room, with its historical and allegorical paintings on the ceiling. Even Rosings had not been so grand.

‘It's breathtaking,' she said.

She wandered out onto the balcony and looked at the teeming life below: the gondolas going up and down the Grand Canal, the people going to and fro.

‘I could look at this view for ever and never grow bored,' she said. ‘How long have the Darcys owned the
palazzo
?'

‘For a hundred years,' he said, coming up behind her. ‘Venice is still beautiful but she is not what she once was. You should have seen her, Elizabeth, in all her glory, when she was at the height of her powers.'

His voice was hypnotic and as he spoke she could see it all in her mind's eye: the early settlers taking refuge on the myriad tiny islands in the middle of the salt lagoon, taming the tidal waters to form a thoroughfare of canals; the city that grew up around it; the pride of the Doge and the splendour of the Doge's palace; the building of the basilica of St Mark; the travelling Venetians who explored the seas, bringing back treasures for the front of the basilica; the great explorers who discovered new lands. He spoke of the clearing of the buildings around St Mark's and the paving over of the great square; he told her of the Campanile, with its great bell; of the building of ships to send out into the world for exploration and trade; the rise of the Rialto, with its varied shops selling goods from all over the world; and the merchant princes who grew rich on the profits of trade. And he spoke of all the wealth and pride and love for their city being poured into their art, of the great artists, Titian and Bellini and Canaletto, and he spoke of the masked balls and the Carnivale.

She saw it all before her eyes, so vivid did he make it, and as he spoke she felt the soft whisper of his breath on her neck. It hovered there, delicately caressing her.

‘You don't know how good you smell, or how ravishingly appetising you are,' he said as his mouth moved closer, his breath trailing seductive and tantalising pathways across her skin. ‘Your neck is so delicate, so precious, so fragile. You are so tempting, Lizzy.' He brushed away the tendrils of hair that curled in the nape of her neck and kissed it reverently. ‘So white, so pure, so alluring. You are ambrosia to me. I have tried to resist you, but it is so hard… so hard…'

She was almost swooning with rapture.

He kissed her again, his lips brushing with exquisite sensitivity over her skin.

Her heart began to quicken, sending the blood pulsing ecstatically through her veins and making her dizzy with pleasure. There was a change in him, too, as her rapture enticed him beyond endurance. She felt his heart leaping in his breast, growing louder and stronger as he held her close, catching her to him as his lips touched her neck. His kiss was full of fervent desire and something more, something dangerous and deadly. She was held by some great power, suspended in a moment of exquisite anticipation, poised between safety and danger, the known and the unknown, the natural and the supernatural.

‘Darcy!' she breathed…

… and with a sudden roar of frustration he let her go, wrenching himself savagely away from her, his face livid with emotion, and walking to the other side of the room where he stood with his back to her so that she could not see his face.

The strange power that had gripped her began to dissipate and she felt her pulse begin to slow and her senses return to normal. She watched him uncomprehendingly until at last he turned towards her and with a tortured semblance of a smile he said, ‘I will give you an hour to rest and then I will take you to see the sights for yourself.'

When he had gone, Elizabeth retired to her room, feeling exhausted. It had been confusing but exhilarating, frightening and yet blissful, to be held by him.

At last she grew tired of trying to understand the perplexing feelings flowing through her and instead she changed her clothes, removing her travelling clothes and putting on one of the new gowns she had bought in Susa. Then she went downstairs, where she found Darcy waiting for her. He made no mention of what had just happened and, still feeling shaken by it, she made no mention of it either. Instead she smiled at him and told him she was ready, and together they went outside. Light was everywhere. It poured from the sky and it danced from the water. It leapt from the gilding and twirled from the stones.

They explored the city like lovers, riding in gondolas or walking arm in arm through the narrow streets and crossing the humped bridges which spanned the canals. They emerged into brightly-lit squares where fountains played. Darcy seemed light-hearted and carefree. He was attentive and affectionate, showing her all his favourite corners of the city.

At last
, Elizabeth thought with a happy sigh,
this is what I always expected my honeymoon would be
.

The Darcys were not the only English people in Venice. Many of their compatriots, tempted by the easier travel occasioned by the break in hostilities with France, had chosen to travel to Italy too. Elizabeth's table was soon full of cards left by English men and women known and unknown to them, for, when travelling, all English people became entitled to friendship. It was as Elizabeth examined the new cards one morning when she and Darcy had just returned from seeing the Campanile that she gave an exclamation of pleasure.

‘What is it?' asked Darcy.

‘This card is from the Sothertons.'

‘I don't believe I know them,' he said.

‘But you have a reason to be grateful to them, all the same, and so do I, for they are the owners of Netherfield Park. It was Mr Sotherton's debts that forced them to leave Netherfield and rent it out to Mr Bingley. I had heard they were travelling abroad, but I never expected to find them here.'

‘Everyone comes to Venice in the end,' said Darcy. ‘We must invite them to our
conversazione
, and I must try not to thank Mr Sotherton for managing his affairs so badly that he had to leave his home, though I will be tempted to do so, for it he had been a more capable man of affairs, I would have never met you!'

‘I will send the invitation at once,' said Elizabeth.

They went through into the drawing room. She glanced, as she always did on entering the room, at the ceiling, amazed at the artistry of the painters who had produced such a masterpiece and had produced it on a surface so high above the ground.

Going over to the writing table at the far side of the room, she wrote the invitation and then gave it to one of the footmen to deliver.

‘Is everything prepared for tomorrow evening?' asked Darcy.

‘Yes.'

‘Nervous?' he asked her.

‘No,' she said, though it was not strictly true.

It was the first time she had hosted a social gathering and she wanted everything to be perfect. If she had been hosting an evening at Longbourn, it would have come naturally to her; if she had been hosting an evening at Pemberley, it would have been more of a trial, but still she would have known what was expected of her, and also what she hoped to achieve; but here in Italy, there were different ways and customs, as well as different food and drink, and complicating everything was the problem of the language.

Darcy had been a great help to her, speaking to the servants on her behalf and translating where necessary, but Elizabeth, realising that her lack of Italian was a handicap to her, had started taking lessons from a genial master. It would be some time before she could understand and make herself understood and until that time Darcy's help was invaluable. Together they had managed to arrange everything to Elizabeth's satisfaction and now she was looking forward to the
conversazione
.

Whilst Darcy went to speak to the butler in order to make the final arrangements for the wine, Elizabeth pulled a sheet of paper towards her and wrote a long overdue letter to her sister. She recalled the last letter she had sent, when she had been in the castle, and it all seemed very strange. Here, with the view of the Grand Canal outside her window, where gondolas glided past and where the buildings dazzled in the sunlight, the alarms of the forests seemed a long way away.

My dearest Jane,

The first thing she had to do, she knew, after the alarming tone of her last letter, was to reassure her sister that everything was well.

I sometimes think I must have dreamt the last few weeks, when everything was dark and frightening, and I pray you will forget about them too, for they are over now. Indeed, I am beginning to wonder if they were ever really as dark and frightening as I imagined. The castle was in a lonely spot and I think this must have preyed on my mind, making everything seem worse than it really was. The appearance of the mob was alarming, it is true, but the danger was soon past and no one was hurt, save for a few minor injuries which will by now have healed.

Here in Italy, it is very different. There are no gloomy castles and no sinister forests. Everything is magical. You must tell Bingley to bring you here, Jane. The buildings, the people, the shops—ah yes, the shops! The Rialto is an Aladdin's cave and I have bought you a fan. I have also bought some music for Mary, a new gown each for Kitty and Lydia, a shawl for Mama, some books for Papa, and a pair of gloves for Charlotte. Darcy has bought me a parasol to protect my complexion from the fierce sunlight.

Tomorrow night we will be hosting a conversazione here at the Darcy palazzo—in France the gatherings are called salons whilst here they are called conversaziones, but they are much the same thing: evening gatherings where people can meet with friends and amuse themselves. The night after that we will be going to a dinner party hosted by a group of Darcy's close friends. I am looking forward to it, as it will give me a chance to meet more of the people who are important to him

The Italians I have already met have been charming. They have the most musical voices and they move their hands a great deal when they talk. They are very expressive people, the gentlemen as well as the ladies. In this they are very different to the gentlemen at home, who mostly keep their hands clasped behind their backs.

There are some of our countrymen here as well, so at least I will be able to understand some of our guests, although my Italian is improving!

Darcy returned and Elizabeth laid aside her letter for the time being, and together they went through their list of things to do, making sure that all their preparations were in place for the
conversazione
.

***

The landing platform, the colonnade, and the courtyard were full of blazing flambeaux as the guests began to arrive on the following evening. Elizabeth stood in the drawing room to receive them with Darcy by her side. He spoke flawless Italian to the Italian guests whilst Elizabeth greeted them with several carefully rehearsed phrases; both she and Darcy were able to make their English guests feel at home.

The drawing room was abuzz with conversation in a variety of languages, for there were some guests from Switzerland, Austria, and other European countries, too. The
ton
had their own set of friends, as Elizabeth was discovering, and Darcy knew people from many countries. With all of them he was easy and assured, and she reflected that Darcy, with those he knew, was not the same as the more formal and reserved man who found it difficult to converse with strangers. Although he had made some efforts in that direction since knowing her, he was still not entirely at ease unless he knew people well. With strangers or mere acquaintances he always held something of himself back.

‘Elizabeth!' cried Susan Sotherton as she appeared in the doorway.

She was small and plump with an abundance of fair hair which curled naturally round her face and she was dressed in a modish gown of ivory silk.

‘Susan!' said Elizabeth, welcoming her warmly. ‘This is Miss Sotherton,' she said to Darcy.

‘Not Miss Sotherton anymore, Mrs Wainwright,' said Susan. ‘I was married in the summer. Mama and Papa asked me to send their regrets, but Papa is not well and Mama did not think it wise to leave him.'

Elizabeth nodded in quick sympathy. Mr Sotherton's illness was more accurately described as drunkenness, and it was this propensity to drink, coupled with a propensity to gamble wildly, that had led to the Sothertons' difficulties.

‘You must let me introduce my husband,' said Susan. ‘Ah, here he is.'

Mr Wainwright came forward. He was not handsome, but he had an agreeable countenance and he seemed good humoured. He was also, by the look of Susan's clothes and jewels, wealthy. But a quick glance at Susan's face showed Elizabeth that the marriage had not been contracted for mercenary reasons and she was glad. She had found it difficult to forgive Charlotte for making a practical marriage, and she was pleased that Susan had not succumbed to the same fate.

‘How long have you been here?' Susan asked.

‘We are newly arrived,' said Elizabeth.

‘I thought you must be, or I would have seen you before now. It is good to see a familiar face; we have been travelling for months. But more of that later, you have other guests to greet.'

The Wainwrights moved on and Elizabeth and Darcy greeted the rest of their guests.

Once everyone had arrived, Elizabeth was free to join in the conversations. There was much talk of the political situation, and the recent invasion of Venice by the French was spoken of at length with sadness and regret. When the mood seemed in danger of becoming too dark, Elizabeth turned the conversation to art, a subject sure to energise the Italian guests, who were great patrons of all the arts.

The ceilings in the Darcy
palazzo
were much admired, as were the sculptures and statues which adorned the rooms.

Elizabeth found many of the guests charming and agreeable, but it was when she met Susan by chance in the ladies withdrawing room that she really began to enjoy the evening.

‘I never was more surprised or delighted to hear that you had married Mr Darcy,' said Susan, as she examined herself in the mirror and patted her hair into place. ‘I am glad that something good came out of poor Papa's follies. I always thought you would find it difficult to marry anyone in Meryton. You were too clever for the local men, you know. Mr Darcy seems very much in love with you. He can scarcely keep his eyes away from you.' She separated the curls around her face and wrapped them round her finger one by one to refresh them. ‘And what do you think of my Mr Wainwright?'

‘I like him,' said Elizabeth.

‘Yes, so do I. I was lucky to find him. I thought I would have to stay with Mama and Papa in boarding houses for the rest of my life, for Papa gambled away all my marriage portion, you know. It was not tied up as tightly as it should have been, and it soon slipped through his fingers. I am only glad that Netherfield is entailed, otherwise he would have gambled that away, too. Mama wanted me to marry Papa's heir, some distant relation by the name of Mobberley, so that when Papa died I would be able to return home, and of course, she would have been able to return home with me.'

‘That is exactly what Mama wanted me to do,' said Elizabeth. ‘She wanted me to marry Mr Collins, Papa's distant relation, and she was very angry when I refused.'

‘Your Papa, I suppose, gave you his support,' said Susan.

‘Yes, he did. He said that I must be a stranger to one of my parents, for Mama had already declared that she would not see me again if I refused him, and he would not see me again if I accepted!'

‘Dear Mr Bennet! How lucky you are to have such a father, though even he has not been very sensible where saving is concerned. At least we will not have any such problems when we grow older, for we have both had the good fortune to love wealthy men.'

‘And yet you did not marry for money. It is easy to see you love your husband.'

‘You are right. The odious Mobberley is richer than my dear Arthur, but I could never have married him for I have never liked him, but I love my Wainwright very much. Perhaps too much,' she said mischievously, resting her hand on her stomach. ‘There is already another little Wainwright on the way. To begin with, Wainwright used his discretion so that he would not risk giving me a child whilst we were travelling, but his discretion could only last so long! So now we have to delay our return to England. It is not safe for me to travel over the Alps in my condition, and I have no fancy for a long sea voyage. I am sick very often and I do not want to risk sea sickness in the moments when the other sickness gives me some peace.'

As she spoke, an idea came to Elizabeth. She had thought of many reasons for Darcy avoiding her during their wedding tour, but here was one she had not thought of. He had wanted to show her Europe, knowing she had never been out of England and that there might not be another chance to see it because the political situation was so volatile. He might have then decided it would be a good idea to delay any possibility of her suffering from sickness or other complaints until they returned to England.

If he had not been so restrained, their travelling would have had to be much curtailed if she had become
enceinte
like Susan, and their flight from the castle would have been difficult indeed. The magnificent journey over the Alps would have been vastly unpleasant for her if she had been suffering from sickness and, moreover, it could have been injurious to her or the child, or both. But they would not be in Europe forever, and besides, Darcy's restraint might not last for any longer than Mr Wainwright's! As she went downstairs, she tried to weigh the advantages of it lasting until they returned to England against the pleasures of it breaking whilst they were still in Europe, and it was in a more cheerful frame of mind that she rejoined her guests.

‘You look happy,' said Darcy, joining her.

‘I am,' she said with a radiant smile.

He put his arm around her waist and led her to meet some of the more dignified guests, who professed themselves charmed to meet her. The evening was further enlivened by impromptu musical performances, so that it was with great regret that Elizabeth saw the evening come to an end. As the guests left, they expressed their thanks for one of the most agreeable evenings they had spent in a long time, and Susan whispered to Elizabeth as she said goodbye, ‘It was a great success.'

Darcy and Elizabeth watched their guests from the window, seeing them climb into the gondolas that waited for them in the way that carriages would have waited for them in London. Elizabeth laid her head on Darcy's shoulder and gave a happy sigh as she saw the flotilla of graceful boats gliding away, to the accompaniment of the softly lapping waters of the canal.

***

There were a great many congratulatory calls the next day, and Elizabeth was glad to know that her first party as hostess had been a success. It made her eager to give more such parties when they were back at Pemberley.