‘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.
After basking in the glow of all the congratulations, she turned her attention to their next engagement, this time an engagement at which they were to be guests. It was to be held by a Venetian friend of Darcy’s. The friend had not been able to attend their own conversazione and Elizabeth was looking forward to meeting him.
‘How exactly did you come to know Giuseppe?’ asked Elizabeth, who was eager to learn more about her husband and about his life.
‘I was walking home from a ball one night when I heard cries and I saw that a young man and woman were being attacked by cutthroats,’ said Darcy. ‘I went to help them, and together the young man and I drove off the assailants. He thanked me and introduced himself, then introduced his sister. They invited me back to their casa where I met the rest of their family. I was welcomed warmly, and they made it their task to show me the city, helping me to see it not as a tourist but as a native. They took me to all the famous sights, but they also took me to the less famous places, and they opened doors for me that would otherwise have remained closed.’
‘Did you not have letters of introduction when you arrived?’ asked Elizabeth.
She knew that this was the custom for young men of social standing on their Grand Tour.
‘Yes, I did, and I had a guide as well, but they could only do so much for me. Giuseppe and Sophia did so much more. They took me to visit the best painters’ workshops and they showed me where the best sculptures could be bought. They taught me how to appreciate art in a way that my tutors had not been able to do. For the Venetians, art is in their blood. It is a part of them, a part of their lives. Giuseppe, who loves all things beautiful, once said to me that, if he was cut, he would not bleed blood, but paint.’
‘Let us hope you never have to put it to the test!’ said Elizabeth.
Darcy grew silent, but then, rousing himself, said, ‘They helped me choose many of the works of art which now adorn Pemberley’s walls. A great number of the paintings in the gallery and most of the sculptures in the hall and elsewhere came from Venice.’
He spoke of his friends so warmly that Elizabeth found herself eager to meet them, but when they were in the gondola the following evening, on their way to the casa, Darcy said, ‘You may find Giuseppe morose at times. Venice’s recent troubles have rendered him gloomy. When Napoleon invaded the city it hurt him deeply, and when the city he loves was then given to the Austrians, as though it was nothing more than a bargaining chip, he felt the insult keenly. Many of the customs and traditions he loves have been stripped away. The great horses that used to decorate the basilica have been taken to Paris, the carnivale is outlawed, and now French banners hang from the windows of the Doge’s palace.’
‘I understand,’ said Elizabeth.
And indeed, she could understand Giuseppe’s feelings at having his beloved home invaded. England had also faced the threat of invasion, and although it was suspended for the moment by the signing of a peace treaty, it might one day return.
When the Darcys arrived at the Deleronte’s casa, Elizabeth found it to be as splendid as any palace on the Grand Canal. The landing stage was brightly lit, and the mooring post was painted with gay colours. There were many more gondolas coming and going, and the Darcy gondola had to wait before it could approach.
Darcy stepped out of the boat first, then offered his hand to Elizabeth and she followed. She was now used to the bobbing of the boat and she could judge its movement towards and away from the landing stage exactly, so t
hat she stepped out at exactly the right time.
They went under the colonnades and into the courtyard, which was brightly lit with flambeaux, and then went up the steps, where they found their hosts waiting to receive them.
It was to be a small party, and so there was not the ceremony that prevailed at larger gatherings. The atmosphere was more informal—a gathering of friends—and Giuseppe and Sophia’s welcome reflected that informality. They greeted Darcy warmly and expressed themselves delighted to meet Elizabeth.
As they drew the Darcys into the room, Elizabeth was reminded of Charles and Caroline Bingley, for Caroline had been her brother’s hostess at Netherfield, just as Sophia was Giuseppe’s hostess here. But there the similarity ended. Sophia was not the cold and superior woman Caroline was; Sophia was warm and passionate, moving her hands expressively as she talked. Her brother was quieter, and Elizabeth remembered Darcy’s words and thought she could discern an air of melancholy about him.
To look at, the brother and sister were very much alike. They had black hair and black eyes with smooth, translucent skin. Their clothes were old fashioned, as were the clothes of their other guests. Not for them the Grecian styles which had swept England and France in the last five years. Instead they wore sumptuous clothes in jewel-coloured fabrics, the women’s dresses sitting on their waists.
Elizabeth was introduced to the other guests, a dozen in all, and saw that they all shared the Italian dark hair and dark eyes, with smooth, translucent skin. Elizabeth found it hard to guess at their ages. Their faces were unlined, but their eyes were full of experience.
They made much of Elizabeth and made her feel at home. They demanded details of the Darcys’ wedding tour and teased Darcy, telling Elizabeth that it was obvious she was good for him.
‘I have never seen him looking so happy,’ said Sophia, who, as the hostess, took the lead in the conversation.
‘Who would not be happy, married to a woman as beautiful as Elizabeth?’ asked Giuseppe gallantly.