Mr. Darcy, Vampyre

Chapter 4

The weather was fine when they left Paris. It was a golden October, with plenty of sunshine and warm, drowsy days. They set out at a leisurely pace, enjoying the journey. Elizabeth travelled in the coach as it passed through the city and headed in a south-easterly direction. They stopped for lunch at an inn near Fontainebleau and then Elizabeth took to horseback, riding through the forest beside Darcy. The whitebeams were starting to lose their leaves, creating openness above them, and the air had a clarity that made the colours sing.

They passed the chateau of Fontainebleau and Elizabeth looked at it in wonder. It dwarfed Pemberley and Rosings, too.

‘At least the revolution didn’t destroy this,’ she said.

She had seen a great deal of destruction in Paris, with buildings defaced or demolished, but the palace was still intact, rapturous in its beauty. It had graceful proportions and elegant lines, ornamented with the curve of a horseshoe staircase at its front. And surrounding the palace were the greens and blues of the gardens and lake.

‘No, not the outside, but the inside has been ransacked and the furniture sold. François would not recognise it now, nor Louis, nor Marie Antoinette.’

He spoke about them as if he knew them, but Elizabeth’s education, governess-less though it had been, was sufficient to tell her that he meant the French kings and queens of centuries gone by.

‘Autumn was always the time for Fontainebleau,’ he said. ‘That was when the Court came here to hunt. But not anymore. Nothing lasts. It all fades away. Only the trees remain.’ He pointed one of them out to her, an ancient tree, standing alone. ‘I used to climb that tree as a boy,’ he said. ‘It was perfect for my purposes. The lower branches were just low enough for me to be able to reach them by jumping, if not on the first attempt, then on the second or third, and the topmost branches were strong enough to bear my weight. When I reached them, I would hold on to the trunk and look out over the surrounding countryside and pretend I was on a ship and that I had just climbed the mast, looking for land.’

‘You may climb it now if you like!’ she said. ‘I will wait.’

He laughed.

‘I doubt the branches would bear my weight. It was a long time ago.’

She liked to hear of his childhood, and as they rode on, he told her more about his boyhood pursuits. She responded with tales of her own childhood, games of chase with her large family of sisters on the Longbourn lawn and rainy afternoons curled up on the window seat in the library with a book.

Elizabeth patted her mare’s neck as they came to a crossroads and turned south, the carriages rolling along behind them. Darcy, watching Elizabeth said, ‘Has Snowfall won you over? Do you like riding?’

‘How could I not with such a mount?’ said Elizabeth. ‘But—’

She shifted a little in her saddle.

‘Saddle sore?’ he asked.

‘Yes! I am not used to it, you know.’

‘Would you rather walk?’

‘I think so, for a little while, anyway.’

He helped her to dismount and then dismounted beside her, and they walked on, leading their horses, until Elizabeth at last tired and took her seat once more in the coach.

As they travelled south through France, the Alps drew steadily closer.

‘Twice now I have been deprived of a promised visit to the Lake District, but both times I have been glad to change my destination. I never thought anything could be so beautiful,’ she said.

She raised her eyes to their summits, which were iced with snow.

‘You must have seen pictures of them,’ said Darcy.

‘Pictures, yes, but they didn’t prepare me for their scale or grandeur,’ she said.

As day followed day, they left the lowlands behind and began to climb, following a winding road through the foothills of the mountains which gave extensive views at every turn. Against the backdrop of the mountains there were tall trees and shady glens, and here and there, they saw mountain goats. There were flowers still blooming in the meadows. Butterflies flitted between the gentians, harebells, and saxifrage, their iridescent blue and yellow wings catching the light.

From time to time, they came across cool, bubbling springs at which they stopped to drink.

Darcy knew the way, having travelled the route before, and as the light started to fade at the end of each day, he led them to a homely cottage where they could shelter, having them safely inside before sunset.

At the end of several days’ travelling, they stopped for the night at a small inn.

‘It’s not like the inns in England,’ said Darcy as they approached.

‘It’s delightful,’ said Elizabeth.

It was set amidst the mountains beside a mirror-like lake. She ran her eyes over the rustic building with its gaily painted shutters, its blooming window boxes, and its overhanging eaves.

They were welcomed warmly with genuine hospitality. The size of their retinue at first caused some consternation, but the problem was quickly solved by the judicious use of outbuildings which nestled close by the inn.

Elizabeth’s room was homely, with pine furniture. There was a picture over the bed, but the real picture in the room was the view. Framed by the window, it was magnificent. Elizabeth rested her arms on the window ledge and watched the sun setting. It turned the sky golden as its last rays blazed out, then flooded it with orange and red as the sky around it grew darker, changing from blue to purple, and then, as the sun sank at last, to black. The white finger of the mountain could still be seen, glowing softly in the ethereal light of the stars that pricked the sky. Elizabeth watched it still, delighting in the novelty and the splendour of its majesty, until the wind blew cold and she drew the curtain.

She washed and changed and then went down to dinner. The dining room was a simple apartment with only three tables, each flanked with benches. But the room was pretty, with long gingham cushions on the benches and gingham curtains at the windows.

Despite the remoteness of the place, the Darcys were not the only guests. A middle aged English couple, a Mr and Mrs Cedarbrook, were also staying there. They had an air of solid respectability about them and whilst her husband’s expression was absent-minded, Mrs Cedarbrook’s face wore a sensible aspect. They were dressed in good but unostentatious clothes, with Mrs Cedarbrook wearing a cashmere shawl over her cambric gown and Mr Cedarbrook wearing a well-tailored coat and breeches with a simply folded cravat.

The inn was so small that friendship was inevitable, and the four of them were soon engaged in conversation.

‘Have you come far?’ asked Mr Cedarbrook, as their host brought in a large bowl of something savoury and proceeded to ladle appetising soup into clay bowls, placing large hunks of crusty bread on the plates next to them.

‘From Paris,’ said Darcy.

‘Ah, Paris! How I love Paris,’ said Mrs Cedarbrook.

‘Humph,’ said her husband, tasting his soup. He made an appreciative noise and took another spoonful. ‘Big cities are not for me.’

‘My husband is a botanist,’ explained Mrs Cedarbrook. ‘He prefers the countryside. We are on a walking tour, collecting plants.’

‘New species,’ said her husband as he broke off a piece of bread. ‘There are plenty of them in the Alps. What do you do?’ he asked Darcy.

‘I am a gentleman of leisure,’ said Darcy.

‘A man needs a hobby, even so,’ said Mr Cedarbrook. ‘You should take up botany.’

‘My dear, not everyone wants to be a botanist,’ said his wife.

‘Can’t think why not,’ he returned.

Mrs Cedarbrook smiled indulgently, but accompanying the look was also an expression of good humour and common sense. She reminded Elizabeth of her Aunt Gardiner, who treated Mrs Bennet’s foibles in much the same way as Mrs Cedarbrook treated her husband’s eccentricities.

‘Do you always travel together?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘We do now,’ said Mrs Cedarbrook. ‘When the children were younger I stayed at home because I did not like to be away from them for months at a time, but now that they have all married and have homes of their own, I enjoy our journeys and I like to see something of the world.’

‘And what do you do when your husband is studying plants?’ asked Darcy.

‘I have my sketchbook and my watercolours, and I make a pictorial record of everything we see,’ she replied.

‘And very useful it is, too,’ said her husband.

They talked of their experiences in the Alps over the meal, sharing their pleasure in the scenery. They also shared with each other information about the journey, for they had approached the inn from different directions, and so they knew what difficulties their fellow guests would face on the following day.

When they had finished their meal, their host brought in a bottle of some local spirit and Mrs Cedarbrook said to Elizabeth, ‘I think it is time for us to withdraw.’

‘Gladly,’ said Elizabeth.

It was a long time since she had had a woman to talk to—a sensible, mature woman—and she felt herself in need of someone to turn to.

As there was no withdrawing-room, they retired to Mrs Cedarbrook’s chamber and there they sat and talked. All the time, Mrs Cedarbrook watched Elizabeth and after a while she said, ‘Something is troubling you, my dear. Can I help?’

‘No, it is nothing,’ said Elizabeth.

‘I have two grown up daughters and I can tell that something is wrong. Will you not trust me?’

Elizabeth was longing to do so, but she did now know how to begin.

‘You are from Hertfordshire, I think you said?’ prompted Mrs Cedarbrook.

‘Yes, that’s right, from a small town called Meryton,’ said Elizabeth.

‘I do not know the town, but I have passed through Hertfordshire often on various journeys. It is a very beautiful county, but very different to the Alps. You are a long way from home. Do you not find it lonely here, where there are so few people?’

‘I have my husband,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Of course. But sometimes a woman needs another woman to talk to.’

Elizabeth said nothing, but she had been thinking exactly the same thing. She had been troubled for some time, and she found it difficult to keep her feelings to herself, because at home she had always had someone to talk to.

‘You are a long way from your mother,’ said Mrs Cedarbrook.

‘Yes, I am,’ said Elizabeth.

She gave a rueful smile as she thought of her mother.

Mrs Cedarbrook said, ‘Ah,’ quietly, and added, ‘And your friends.’

‘Yes,’ said Elizabeth with a sigh.

‘You must miss them,’ said Mrs Cedarbrook kindly.

‘I do. But not as much as I miss my sister.’

‘If you need someone to talk to, my dear, I am here.’

Elizabeth looked at her uncertainly and then came to a decision. Mrs Cedarbrook was a stranger, but she was a sympathetic woman and Elizabeth needed to confide in someone. Her friends and family were a long way away and she had no one else to turn to in her need for a listening ear and, more importantly, some advice.

‘You are worried about something,’ said Mrs Cedarbrook gently.

‘It is only…’ said Elizabeth, not knowing how to begin. ‘It is just that…’

‘Yes, my dear?’

‘It is just that, sometimes, I don’t understand my husband.’

‘You have been married long?’

‘No, we are only just married. We are on our wedding tour.’

‘You seem very happy together. It is not difficult to see that your husband loves you very much.’

‘I wonder,’ said Elizabeth, looking down at her hands, which were pleating the fabric of her skirt in her lap.

‘What makes you say that?’ asked Mrs Cedarbrook.

‘It is just that he hasn’t so much as touched me in all this time. He’s attentive and friendly and considerate, we have a great deal to say to each other, and the way he looks at me—you have seen the way he looks at me.’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘But at night, when we could be alone, he avoids me.’

Mrs Cedarbrook looked at her thoughtfully.

‘You are very young. Perhaps he is just giving you time to adjust to your new life. Tempt him, my dear. You are very lovely, and there isn’t a man alive who could resist you if you put your mind to it.’

‘That’s just it,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I don’t know how.’

‘You are a woman in love, you will know how when the time comes. Go to his room if he will not come to yours. It will not be long before you are happy, I am sure.’

‘You have taken a load from my mind,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Just to be able to talk about it has been a help.’

There was a noise from below.

‘I think the gentlemen are coming to the end of their conversation. Go now, my dear, and I am sure your problems will soon be over.’

The two women rose and Elizabeth returned to her own room. Annie helped her to undress and then, saying, ‘Thank you, Annie,’ Elizabeth waited only for her maid to leave the room before she went through the interconnecting door into her husband’s room. She had hoped to find Darcy there, but the room was empty, save for a faint, lingering scent of him.

On the washstand, his valet had laid out his brushes and razor, and Elizabeth went over to them and ran her hands over them. These were the things he had touched, and she let her fingers linger there. Her eyes wandered round the small, rustic apartment until they came to rest on the window. It had been left open. The night air was fresh but cold, and it carried a hint of frost. She went over to the window and prepared to close it, but her hand rested on the catch for a moment and she looked out over the tranquil, moonlit landscape. The lake was shining placidly in the silver light and, far off, trees were silhouetted against the white backdrop of the mountain. Hanging above it was a gibbous moon, phosphorescent in the darkness.

Her attention was attracted by movement close at hand and she saw the dark shape of a bird—no, a bat—heading towards the window. She closed it quickly, leaving the bat to hover outside. As she looked at it she was seized with a strange feeling. She thought how lonely it must feel, being shut out, being a part and yet not a part of the warmth and light within.

Then the bat turned and flew away and the moment was broken, and she went back to the other side of the room, warming herself by the fire.

There was still no sign of Darcy.

She returned to her own room, and to her astonishment, she found him standing on the hearthrug. She had not heard his footsteps in the corridor, but her surprise quickly gave way to a sense of anticipation. He had come to her after all. She went closer and she felt the tension in him, as though he was trying to hold back some great force by sheer strength of will. She shivered, but not with cold. She could hear his shallow, uneven breathing, and he leaned towards her…

…and then she saw his hands clench as if he had fought an inner battle and emerged in some way victorious, but as if the victory had brought him no pleasure and had cost him dear. He kissed her gently on the cheek, the faintest brush of his lips, and said, ‘Good night, Elizabeth,’ Then, going into his own room, he shut the door.

She could still feel the warmth of his lips on her skin, and she raised her hand to them in an effort to hold the feeling. But gradually it faded, until there was nothing left of it.

She shivered, and looking round, she noticed that the window in her room too was open. She went to shut it, then she climbed into bed. She lay awake for a long time before she at last she fell asleep.

The morning sunlight streaming through a crack in the shutters woke her. She was confused for a moment, not recognising the room, then she remembered that she was in the Alps and she jumped out of bed. She threw back the shutters to see that the sky was a startling blue and that the mountains were rising majestically against it.

Her eyes wandered downwards, to the meadows and wildflowers that surrounded the taverna, and then to the still and placid lake. When she looked more closely, she could see that someone was swimming there. Her heart leapt as she saw that it was Darcy. She longed to join him, and although she thought, to begin with, that she could not possibly do any such thing, she soon changed her mind and thought, Why not?

She slipped into a chemise and gown, then picked up a towel and went softly downstairs. There were the usual early morning sounds coming from the back of the taverna, the sizzle of cooking and the thunk of wood being chopped, but in the front of the taverna it was silent. It was still very early and the other guests were in bed.

Elizabeth slipped outside unnoticed and felt the crispness of the air, then she felt the warming of the sun as she stepped out of the shadow and began to run across the meadow. As she sped over the carpet of wildflowers she crushed them beneath her feet, releasing their scent. It rose in a cloud around her, sweet and heady. At last she came to a stop, breathless but exhilarated, by the side of the lake. It was the deepest blue she had ever seen and as smooth as glass. It reflected the mountains and the tall pine trees that surrounded it without so much as a ripple to break the surface.

She set her towel down by the side of the water and then dipped a toe into the lake. It was very cold, but by and by, her foot became used to it and she began to find it refreshing. She put her foot further into the water, first her ankle and then her calf, and then she was seized with a sudden longing to be swimming. She unhooked her dress and pulled it over her head and was about to slip into the lake in her chemise when Mrs Cedarbrook’s words came back to her: tempt him. She hesitated for a moment, but there was no one about, nor was there likely to be so early in the morning, so she slipped out of her chemise as well and slid into the water.

She gasped as the cold liquid closed around her and struck out for the end of the lake. Gradually the movement began to warm her. She looked for Darcy and saw his head rising above the surface. She began to close the gap between them. As she drew closer she saw that his hair was wet, lying dark and sleek against his head, with rivulets of water running down his neck, over two small scars and onto his shoulders. She felt suddenly nervous, but it was too late to turn back. He had seen her. A look of surprise and delight crossed his face and then his eyes, at first joyful, darkened as his face flooded with desire. He closed the gap between them in a few strokes, his eyes roaming over her face and hair, and then down to her throat which rose, naked, above the water.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he murmured as he bent his head towards her. ‘You are intoxicating, ravishing, exquisite.’

She felt herself growing weak with need, drowning in the overwhelming force of his desire. Her skin yearned for him and her body leaned towards him. She felt as though they were not two separate beings but halves of the same whole, which had been long sundered and longed to be joined. He put his hands on her shoulders and her body grew heavy and languorous. He bent his head to kiss her and she felt his breath whisper over her neck like warm silk. She turned her head to expose her throat as her senses were consumed by him, mesmerised by his breathing and the hypnotic beating of his heart.

And then, like a sleepwalker awakened, she heard the wheels of a carriage as it pulled to a halt by the side of the lake. She heard the opening and closing of a carriage door and then a voice which was at once familiar and unfamiliar. Darcy lifted his head and Elizabeth, turning slowly, saw the figure of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Beside her, pale and bloodless, was her daughter, Anne.

Elizabeth thought she must be dreaming. The swim in the lake, Darcy’s touch, her heavy languor, together with the strange and unsettling appearance of Lady Catherine and her daughter, all had the quality of something unreal. Lady Catherine seemed to be insubstantial and ghostly in the strong sunlight.

But as Elizabeth’s senses began to return to normal, she realised that it was not a dream, that she was awake, and that everything was happening.

Darcy pulled her behind him and she was glad of his protection because there was something menacing about Lady Catherine. At Rosings she had been dictatorial, at Longbourn she had been ridiculous, but here she was frightening.

She was dressed all in black. Her long black cloak hung heavily around her and a black veil hung from her black bonnet, covering her face. She was leaning on a black parasol, which she used like a walking stick.

‘How did she find us?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘We made no secret of our journey or our destination,’ said Darcy. ‘If she was in Paris, she had only to ask my relatives where I was and they would tell her.’

Lady Catherine took a menacing step forward.

‘So, you have done it. Against all advice, you have married this—person. I never thought to see the day when you would do something so stupid, you of all people, Fitzwilliam,’ said Lady Catherine.

‘You knew I was going to marry her,’ said Darcy inimically.

‘I knew you intended to marry her, but I thought you would come to your senses in time. I told you that she would be rejected by the family, or worse—you have been to Paris, you know that I am right. But you went ahead and married her anyway.’

‘I have a right to my own life,’ he said.

‘You have no rights! Marriage is a family matter. It is for those who are older and wiser than you to make the decision. It is not for you to indulge a whim.’

‘It is too late to complain now,’ said Darcy in a warning voice. ‘We are married; it is done.’

‘Aye, you are married,’ said Lady Catherine malignantly. ‘You did it behind my back, when I was out of the country. I should not have left, and I would not have done so if I had thought you would go through with this scandalous act.’

‘You should not have come here. Darcy and I are happy,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You tried once before to separate us and you failed. You should know by now that it cannot be done. Who are you to decide what we can and cannot do? It is time for you to accept it and leave us alone.’

Lady Catherine turned malignant eyes on her and Elizabeth felt afraid.

‘Be silent!’ she hissed.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

‘You should have married Anne,’ said Lady Catherine, turning once more to Darcy. ‘Anne is your mate. She is the one you were meant to marry. She is from an old and honourable family. She is the one who will keep the blood lines pure.’

‘It is too late for that,’ said Darcy darkly. ‘What is done is done.’

‘No,’ said Lady Catherine. ‘It is not too late. For our kind it is never too late. I only hope you come to your senses sooner rather than later, but you will come to them in time, that is certain. You cannot doubt it.’

‘Then leave me alone and let me enjoy it whilst I can,’ said Darcy.

‘Enjoy it?’ asked Lady Catherine with a bitter laugh. ‘You will not enjoy it. Every moment will be a torment to you. You know you cannot marry a woman like this and be happy. Your pride should have prevented it, pride in who you are and what you are and a pride in your place in the world. And if your pride was sleeping then your conscience should have forbidden it.’

‘Enough!’ said Darcy. ‘You should go.’

‘The sight of you sickens me, so yes, I will go, but you have not seen the last of me,’ said Lady Catherine. ‘You will threaten us all if you pursue this course. It is up to you, up to all of us, to ensure the continuation of our kind, lest we become extinct. You have seen your fellows hunted down and slain, you know of what I speak.’

Elizabeth thought of the revolution and the rich and titled who had fallen prey to its merciless scythe.

‘That has nothing to do with me!’ said Darcy.

‘It has something to do with all of us,’ she said.

Then, giving him one last poisonous glance, she returned to her carriage, with Anne following her like a sorrowful ghost.

When she had gone, Elizabeth realised how cold she was. She had been stationary in the icy water for the length of Lady Catherine’s tirade, and she shivered.

‘You’re freezing,’ said Darcy, suddenly solicitous. ‘You need to get dressed.’

Elizabeth began to swim towards the edge of the lake. The water was very cold and her teeth were chattering as she reached the shore. She was about to climb out when she saw her maid, Annie, running towards her.

‘Ma’am, oh Ma’am, you’ve had a visitor,’ said Annie, beaming. ‘A very grand lady, a Lady Catherine de Something. I asked her to wait but she said she couldn’t.’

‘It is all right, Annie,’ said Elizabeth. ‘She found us.’

‘Us?’ asked Annie.

Elizabeth looked round and saw that Darcy had gone.

She had not seen him depart and she felt suddenly lost without him. She wondered why he had disappeared before realising that he had done it to spare her blushes and the blushes of her maid.

She let Annie help her out of the lake.

‘This water’s too cold to go swimming in,’ said Annie as she handed Elizabeth the towel. ‘You’ll catch your death.’

Elizabeth dried herself vigorously, her teeth chattering all the while, then she slipped into her clothes, but she was still shivering when she returned to the taverna. As soon as she was back in her room, she stripped off her damp clothes and sat in front of the fire whilst Annie rubbed her hair with a towel.

‘It was nice of Lady Catherine to come and wish you well,’ said Annie. ‘Mr Darcy’s aunt she said she was. Just visiting the Alps. She must have been surprised to find you here, too.’

Elizabeth did not reply. She huddled over the fire and then she began to sneeze.

‘There you are, what did I say, you’ve caught your death,’ said Annie, looking at her with a worried expression.

‘It’s nothing,’ said Elizabeth, ‘but I would like a hot drink all the same.’

‘I’ll get you one right away.’

Annie left the room, and when the door opened again, Elizabeth turned towards it with thanks on her lips. But it was not Annie who stood in the doorway; it was Darcy.

‘I heard you sneezing,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have left you in the lake for so long.’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I knew Lady Catherine didn’t approve of our marriage, but I never thought she would pursue us on our wedding tour. Why did she do it? And why did she say all those terrible things?’

‘Lady Catherine is old,’ he said by way of explanation.

‘Not so old that she doesn’t know how to behave, and not so old that age excuses her for behaving in such a manner,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Things are not so simple,’ he said.

‘They seem simple to me,’ she said.

He looked at her with a wistful smile.

‘You’re very young,’ he said.

‘I am only seven years younger than you.’

His eyes held hers for long moments, then he said, ‘You break my heart.’

He sounded so sad that Elizabeth felt a catch in her throat and she reached out her hand to him, but he had already turned away, and a moment later, he was out in the corridor, issuing instructions to his valet.

Elizabeth felt low in spirits. Lady Catherine’s tirade had unsettled her and Darcy’s strange demeanour had unsettled her even more, so that she longed for someone to talk to. A cheerful conversation about ordinary things was just what she needed to dispel her gloom. She thought at once of Mrs Cedarbrook, knowing that a few minutes talking about Mr Cedarbrook and his botany would soon put a smile on her face. She wrote a short note requesting Mrs Cedarbrook’s company, and when Annie returned with her drink, Elizabeth asked her to take it.

‘I’m sorry, Ma’am, but they’ve left,’ said Annie. ‘They were off an hour since. Mr Cedarbrook wanted to get on with his plant collecting.’

Elizabeth was disappointed but there was nothing to be done about it, so she finished her drink and then started a letter to Jane.

My dearest Jane,

I wish you were here. How I long to talk to you. So much has happened that I scarcely know where to begin. We left Paris a few days ago and we are now in the Alps. Things are changing so rapidly that my head is starting to spin. First Dover, then the sea crossing, then Paris, and now the mountains—my dearest Jane, I woke up this morning and wondered where I was. But then I saw Darcy from the window, swimming in the lake, and things began to change. I went to join him and for the first time, married life started to be what I thought it would be. We were close, body, mind, and spirit, and I longed for him as he longed for me. Everything else was forgotten, until the moment was broken by Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Can you believe it? She followed us here.

Are you plagued by Bingley’s relatives? Do they pursue you?

I am beginning to think we will never be free of Darcy’s family. Perhaps Lady Catherine was right. Perhaps their attitude does matter to me after all.

But no! What am I saying? How can it matter when I have Darcy? For a few short minutes in the lake we were so close, and if it happened once it can happen again. To be sure, he has retreated again, withdrawing into a cold world and gone where I cannot follow, and yet it cannot be for long. He wants me, I know he does, it is only his family and his concerns, perhaps, for my feelings—or what he thinks my feelings must be when everything is so new to me—that keep him aloof.

Writing to you is doing me good. I was despondent at the start of the letter but now things are wearing a rosier aspect. We are going further into the mountains to visit Darcy’s uncle, and there, perhaps, we may grow close again. Darcy respects his uncle and wants to seek his advice, about what I am not quite sure. I only hope it sets his mind at rest and leaves him free to follow his heart which I know, Jane, leads to me.

I must go now, but I will write to you again when we reach the castle. For the moment, adieu.

She sanded the letter then put it away in her writing desk to be finished later.

Annie, in the meantime, had been packing her things.

‘Master’s orders are that we’ll be moving on as soon as we’re ready,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ said Elizabeth. ‘He wants us to reach the castle before dark.’

She dressed in warmer clothes than previously, for she was still cold. She chose a dress with long sleeves and she wore a long pelisse instead of her shorter coat. She dismissed a bonnet which perched on her head and instead chose one that covered her ears. She tied the ribbon under her chin and then she was ready.

Darcy was waiting for her downstairs. The coach was already at the door and she could tell that he was impatient to leave.

Their hosts wished them God speed and then they were off.

Elizabeth was glad to be leaving the inn behind. She could tell that Darcy was on edge and she only hoped that things would improve once they reached the castle.