Darcy's Journey (12 page)

26

Torrential rain woke Darcy.
Navigating by the embers in the grate, he opened the shutters and looked down
at the water splattering against the roof below. On the horizon lightning
flashed, and he counted ten before hearing a rumble, so distant it was almost
drowned out by the rain.

Someone screamed. He went to the dividing
door, and heard whimpering from the next room.

He pulled on his dressing gown,
hesitated a moment, then opened the door half-way. What could it be? An intruder?
The thunder? She cried out again and he scanned the chamber before hastening to
her bedside.

‘Miss Bennet? Are you ill?’

She gripped his arm, and in the dim
light he saw sweat gleam on her brow. She was like a trapped animal in panic.
He took her hand. ‘You’re safe. There is no danger, it is only a storm.’

‘Mr Darcy?’

She fell back, taking a deep breath, and
he took the opportunity to light a candle. ‘Do you see now? There is nothing to
fear.’

She sat up, shivering. ‘It was a
nightmare. I was held prisoner in a dungeon. The ceiling fell towards me, so
low I was forced to lie down, and still it descended …’ She shuddered at the
memory. ‘I’m sorry. I’m behaving like a child. It was only a dream.’

‘Can I bring you a drink? Wine? Brandy?’

‘A sip of brandy would be nice. But
later.’ She mopped her brow with a sleeve, and managed a smile. ‘What happened
to the walls of Jericho?’

‘I scaled them to rescue the damsel in
distress.’

‘I’m not usually like this. Bad dreams,
yes, but not these intense attacks of panic.’ She held up a hand. ‘No need to
play the physician, for I know your diagnosis. It is the opiate. It will pass.’
She sighed. ‘In truth I thought it had passed
already
, since I felt so
well during the evening.’

‘It is normal. There are setbacks, but
they will become fewer and soon vanish altogether.’

‘How fortunate that I have a husband to
comfort me.’

‘It seems rather that I irritate you, by
repeating the obvious. Still, I have scant experience in the role, having been your
husband for only two days. I hope to do better in the future.’

‘Come come, Mr Darcy. As you may recall,
I examined your character long ago and found it without flaw. For one on such a
lofty peak, no improvement is possible.’

He felt self-conscious, recalling her
teasing manner in Hertfordshire, which he had misinterpreted as flirtatious. ‘I
will fetch the brandy now, Miss Bennet, since you have obviously recovered.’

‘You mean, I am restored to my usual
silliness?’

He smiled, disdaining to contradict her,
and left the candle at her bedside in case she took fright again. At the door
he took a last glance at the lovely apparition in white, still watching him,
dark curls hanging loose around her smiling face.
This is not real
, he
told himself.
We are acting a part
. But reason be damned: he could still
dream.

‘Can we try this one?’ Fraulein
Edelmann turned a page in her hand-written manuscript book. ‘
Come raggio di
sol
. How do you say? Like a ray of sun?’

‘Sunshine.’ Elizabeth peered at the piano
part. A traditional Italian song, author unknown, slow and relatively simple.

They had been alone in the piano room
since luncheon, running through the pieces one more time. At the recital,
scheduled for the early evening, the accompanist would be a local
maestro
who
had sent a servant to pick up the sheet music, while declaring himself too busy
to rehearse—his scribbled note mentioned
teaching engagements
. Fraulein
Edelmann took this in her stride: she was used to impecunious musicians who
would prefer to give a ragged performance than turn down a fee.

Elizabeth managed well enough until a
tricky bar full of accidentals. She had broken down before, and noticed that
every time, Fraulein Edelmann carried on as if nothing had happened, rather
than stopping to repeat the passage. The accompanist was expected to catch up.
At the end, she apologised.

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Shall we do it again?’

Fraulein Edelman shook her head. ‘Better
to stay fresh for the recital.’ She turned to a song by her Austrian friend
Franz Schubert. ‘Try this one.’

There was a tap at the door and Darcy
entered.

‘Giles!’ Elizabeth went to meet him.
‘Did all go well?’

He nodded, and replied softly, ‘Burgess
was waiting at the Basilica, as planned. Our, ah,
friends
from Villa Foscari
have continued towards Verona, but left a note for you. Also a present.’

Elizabeth smiled eagerly. ‘Show me!’

‘Patience, Rebecca. You may view them in
your room after rehearsing.’ He turned to Fraulein Edelmann. ‘Excuse the
interruption. Might I listen for a few minutes?’

They tackled the Schubert, and during an
easy passage Elizabeth glanced round and noticed that for once, Darcy’s gaze
was not focussed on herself.

He was watching the singer. Hilda
Edelmann.

They had agreed that it was too
risky to attend the recital, which might attract Gabriele Carandini’s notice if
he was searching for Elizabeth in Padua. Professor Pavoni concurred; his wife
and daughter, unaware of the deception, were mystified.

‘Signora Ashley, you
must
come,’
Maria Grazia pleaded.

Elizabeth explained that they were
tired, having been kept awake by the thunderstorm—which was true, so far
as it went.

Left alone with Darcy, in the
salotto
,
she showed him the note from Miss Dill, which gave her address in Oxfordshire
with the message:
Hoping to meet you again, and as a memento, please accept
these pages from my sketchbook
. Carefully she handed him the drawings of
blueweed and sweet violet that she had last glimpsed over the artist’s shoulder
in the farm wagon.

‘Excellent.’ He gave them back. ‘I
admire economy in art. There is not a single unnecessary line.’

She paused, intrigued by this comment.
‘I feel uneasy to receive such a gift. After all, these drawings are important
to Miss Dill. They record her discoveries during her travels.’

‘No doubt she made copies.’ He smiled,
and Elizabeth felt a quiver of humiliation that she had not drawn this obvious inference
herself. He continued, ‘Miss Bennet, while we are alone it would be a good
moment to plan our next move. The Pavonis have been all generosity, but I would
not wish to outstay our welcome.’

She bridled, finding him patronising.
‘Indeed, to outstay one’s welcome is rarely advisable.’

He flinched, and continued with forced
politeness. ‘Of course I am also concerned that you should have time to recover
from your ordeal.’

She sighed, feeling ridiculous. ‘I’m
doing my best.’

‘Believe me, I understand how difficult
it must be.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘Can we drop the
subject, Mr Darcy? I realise that in my present state I am even more burdensome
than usual. Yes, sooner or later we must continue our journey, presumably to
Verona, and then west to Milan and the Alps.’

Darcy raised a finger. ‘Just so, and
there I have an idea. Fraulein Edelmann will also be leaving Padua in a few
days time, and for a while our routes coincide. Why not share a carriage to
Verona?’

Elizabeth brightened, feeling a spark of
optimism at this clearing of the mist. It would be a relief to remain in
comfort for a few more days; she had also enjoyed the company of the Austrian
singer. But a shadow crossed her heart as she recalled the way in which Darcy
had looked at Fraulein Edelmann in the music room. The contrast between the talented,
courageous young woman and herself was all too sharp.

‘So?’ Darcy pressed. ‘What do you
think?’

‘Oh!’ She blinked in confusion. ‘It is
masterful, like all your ideas.’

He recoiled, and managed a token smile.
‘You exaggerate, of course, but I hope your approval is sincere.’

‘Forgive me. I do approve.’

He nodded, and she wondered why their
conversation had become so awkward. She recalled wistfully how easily they had
managed as Mr and Mrs Ashley.
That was it!
Playing the role of a married
couple they were relaxed, entertained, confident. As Mr Darcy and Miss Bennet
they had a history of misunderstanding and mutual harm …

She remained silent, not wishing to share
this observation. Perhaps one day, but not now, with the atmosphere still
fraught.

27

April 1815

Darcy strolled alone round the Roman
amphitheatre in Verona. In the sunshine he felt warm in his light morning coat;
he wore also a hat over the grey wig. The disguise might not deceive Carandini
if they met close up, but he dismissed this as unlikely. His earlier visit to
Verona had been interrupted by the urgent necessity of returning to Venice; now
he had time to tour the sights.

So far all had gone smoothly. Fraulein
Edelmann accepted his plan with alacrity, and a
vetturino
recommended by
Professor Pavoni provided a carriage with covered seating for four, and extra
space outside—sufficient to carry the singer’s manservant and maid as
well as Burgess. The professor, eager to attend further recitals, came along as
well, and introduced them to his friend Signor Alfredo Zamboni, director of the
Accademia Filarmonica
. This was originally a circle of artists and
musicians who met every week to talk, and organise exhibitions and concerts;
now it ran a magnificent opera theatre that would celebrate its centenary the
following year. Zamboni had already offered hospitality to Fraulein Edelmann,
and Darcy was quietly delighted when the offer was extended to the Ashleys—a
private residence was not only more comfortable than a hotel, but far safer.

They had intended to stop in Verona only
two nights before proceeding to Milan, but for several reasons Darcy had
preferred to extend their stay. Foremost among these was the convenience of
having a companion for Elizabeth—an arrangement that suited Fraulein
Edelmann too since Elizabeth (or rather, Rebecca Ashley) had become an
invaluable partner for rehearsals. Playing the piano accompaniment had also
helped distract Elizabeth from the vexations of laudanum withdrawal. With every
day that passed she grew stronger, removing any illusion that her symptoms had
been due to an authentic illness.

The other reason for staying was that
Darcy was having second thoughts over their itinerary. He had assumed that they
would follow the most direct route, via Milan, Switzerland and France.
Disadvantages of this plan were now apparent. Napoleon was back in Paris,
having regained the loyalty of the French army. This could mean only one thing:
within weeks France would be at war with a coalition of states that included
Britain. Moreover, after leaving Fraulein Edelmann they would be alone, with no
companion for Elizabeth, nor even a maid. Both problems could be allayed by
taking the alternative route north through Austria and the German Confederation
towards Ostend.

Darcy circled round the amphitheatre to
the cobbled road leading to Zamboni’s town house. Elizabeth was still probably
with Fraulein Edelmann in the music room, rehearsing two new pieces for
tomorrow’s recital, which she hoped to attend. Since adopting their disguises
they had circulated in society with increasing confidence, so her bravura was
understandable. He pressed his lips together. It would not do. He would have to
persuade her …

They had been allotted adjoining chambers
in a wing of Zamboni’s grand house, this time with no connecting door. To talk
in privacy they could use the larger bedroom, Elizabeth’s, which had two
armchairs facing the fire. They had retired after lunch, announcing their intention
of taking a
siesta
.

Seated with an atlas on her knees,
Elizabeth traced the line north through the Adige valley towards Innsbruck. ‘Is
it not longer than the other route?’

‘In distance, yes. In time, probably
not. Almost certainly we would be delayed in France, even assuming that we are
allowed to move freely at all.’

‘The Dolomites!’ Her eyes sparkled as
she traced the route through Bavaria and Prussia. ‘So much to see.’

‘And in Fraulein Edelmann’s company.’

He expected this to be a further
inducement, but for a moment her face fell—had he missed something? She
recovered and flashed him a smile. ‘We could go all the way to her home town.
Salzburg.’

‘That would be a digression, Rebecca.’

‘Rebecca?’ She smiled. ‘I can be Miss
Bennet now that we are alone.’

‘If you were Miss Bennet we would not be
tête-à-tête
in your bedroom.’

‘True. Anyway, I much prefer Mr Ashley
to that awful Mr Darcy.’

‘There is an obvious rejoinder to that,
madam.’

She thought for a moment, then smiled. ‘Concerning
the even-more-awful Miss Bennet?’

‘Enough nonsense.’ Darcy took a deep
breath. ‘Listen, Rebecca, you are not going to the recital tomorrow.’

She flinched, but managed to maintain a
light-hearted tone. ‘Come dearest, we are a hundred miles from Venice and have perceived
no sign of Carandini or his acolytes for over a week. I will be wearing my wig,
new dress and hat, even a veil if you wish. Are you not exaggerating the risk?’

‘I would remind you that Carandini is an
obsessional devotee of music. Even living a hundred miles away he is known to
Zamboni’s circle.’

‘And
I
would remind
you
,
sir, that I have spent many hours this past week helping Hilda prepare for her
concerts, and would enjoy just one opportunity to hear the results of my
labours.’

‘So it’s Hilda and Rebecca now?’

‘I think of her as a friend, yes. Indeed,
that is the main reason I wish to attend. Do you not see? We have made some
excuse or other
every time
. How do you think she feels?’

He sighed, seeing the force of this. ‘If
you are attending, then so will I.’

‘Of course.’ She grinned, sensing victory.
‘I would have it no other way. With my devoted husband at my side, I shall feel
entirely safe.’