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.

Chapter 9

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.