8
10 days later, Cologne
They had reached the Rhine, broad as the Thames, and just a few hundred yards from their hotel at Roncalliplatz, overhung by the multi-spired Gothic splendour of Cologne Cathedral. Travelling with Edmund Lindale as well as Lady Selborn, Elizabeth had been struggling during the journey to understand the shifting patchwork that was the German Confederation.
To cut a long story short, they were in Prussia, a kingdom ruled by Frederick William III. Its territory sprawled north and east, bordering states including Hanover, Bavaria, Saxony, Bohemia, Austria and Poland. These boundaries dated from the year before, when Cologne (along with other bits and pieces) had been granted to Prussia. It was these arrangements that Lord Selborn had helped negotiate at the Congress of Vienna on his previous mission.
As predicted by Darcy, the Bingleys had turned back at Brussels. Elizabeth had seen little of Bingley; she had spent far more time with his wife. But his farewell had been affectionate, and while not mentioning Jane directly, he had spoken of memories that he would treasure.
Tutored by Lindale, Elizabeth realised that the shifting national boundaries had little effect on everyday life. The people of Cologne had spoken German before, and would continue speaking it now. As before, they were divided between Catholic and Protestant and were fond of beer and sausages. Her main problem was the language. During a patchy education she had learned a few words of French, but no German except Ja, Nein and Englisch.
Lord Selborn requested early dinner, and they assembled at a table for eight—Selborns, Darcys, Elizabeth, Mr Koch, Mr Lindale. Darcy, unusually, was late, and Lord Selborn ordered in his absence. Wine was offered, but the recommended beverage was Altbier, the dark coppery local brew, which arrived with boards of pumpernickel bread and Westphalia ham. The flavours were as unfamiliar as the dark colours: the word that came to Elizabeth’s mind was earthy. As she nibbled the rye bread, Darcy strode in and took the empty chair at her side.
‘My apologies.’ He addressed the whole gathering. ‘I’ve been enquiring about the steamboat service, on which it appears we were misinformed. It will not start for months, so regrettably we have to make other arrangements.’
‘You could take the same route by road,’ Lord Selborn said.
Justina looked at Miss Darcy. ‘Or come with us to Prague and Vienna!’
Lady Selborn raised a palm. ‘The decision is not yours, dear. Mr Darcy’s aim is to visit Italy.’
‘They can go south later, through the Dolomites.’ Justina turned to Lord Selborn. ‘Is it not possible, father?’
‘Possible, yes.’ Lord Selborn looked at Darcy. ‘And we would naturally be delighted with the company. But I concur with my wife. Let us leave our friends to plan their destination, and speak of other things.’
Elizabeth turned away from Darcy and began to discuss the food with Edmund Lindale. The news of the steamboat had come as a shock. Travel upriver was slow—a sailing boat had to be hauled against the current. Darcy might opt for the same route by land. But he hated to disappoint his sister, and unfortunately, Georgiana was in Justina’s thrall.
Which meant their parties might stay together on a trip that would take months.
It was if the fates were conspiring to torture her.
In a welcome distraction, more food arrived. Roast pork with crackling. Platters piled with potatoes and kale. All of it looked hearty and filling—not usually her favourite cuisine, but warming in the continuing dank weather.
She continued talking with Lindale and ignoring Darcy.
They moved to a lounge for coffee and liquors, giving Elizabeth a chance to distance herself from Darcy. The room was mostly empty, and after a hushed conversation with Justina, Miss Darcy went to the pianoforte and played a Mozart sonata, culminating in the popular Rondo alla Turca. Sharing a divan with Justina, Elizabeth glanced occasionally at Darcy, and noticed a relaxed smile on his face as his sister gained confidence. Groups from other tables filtered in, and the lounge filled up. When Georgiana ended with a flourish, applause rang round—and a glint appeared in Justina’s eye.
Back came Miss Darcy, to continuing applause. She sat beside her brother, shyly smiling, while Justina replaced her at the piano. Elizabeth recognised the piece immediately, having spent hours at Justina’s side to turn the pages. Beethoven’s Waldstein sonata, last movement—a good choice, she thought, since it had lyricism well as virtuosity. Justina had no more need of assistance in turning pages: she knew the sonata by heart.
The playing, as usual, was exquisite, but Elizabeth was still contemplating the look on Justina’s face during the applause for Miss Darcy. Was it jealousy? Surely Justina must know that her own performance was of professional standard? But it was as if a gauntlet had been thrown down. To be aware of her own superiority was not enough. It had to be demonstrated to everyone else.
To be fair, Justina did deserve recognition, for her excellence was not merely a gift. It came from intelligent endeavour, day after day, not just playing, but taking the music apart, as a clock maker might hone every cog and spring in the mechanism. And Miss Darcy did not appear upset. She was smiling, enjoying the piece, perhaps glad that her friend was doing so well.
Justina concluded, to applause—and yet, the response was more polite than enthusiastic. The Mozart rondo was familiar and easily appreciated; the Waldstein was harder to enjoy, despite Justina’s brilliance. Elizabeth waited for her friend to return. Instead, after a pause, Justina launched into another piece …
Mozart. Rondo alla Turca.
Elizabeth felt a wave of revulsion. She wanted to cross the floor and drag Justina from the instrument. Of course the performance was amazing: fast, precise, rhythmic. But Georgiana was no longer smiling, and a deep blush spread across her neck and shoulders.
Diners were still entering the lounge, and those already seated showed no objection to hearing the piece twice: they clapped and cheered Justina as if she were a celebrity. As she sauntered back to their divan, Elizabeth was preparing a deflating comment such as Too fast when Justina pointed towards the entrance.
‘Look! Vendors!’
Turning, Elizabeth saw ladies in blue and gold uniform bearing trays of prettily wrapped perfume. A young lady with blonde ringlets reached their group, and passed round samples labelled Kolnisch Wasser 4711.
Elizabeth handed a phial to Edmund Lindale, who was seated nearby. ‘What does it say?’
‘Literally, Cologne Water.’ He smiled. ‘Better known as Eau de Cologne.’ He exchanged a few words with the vendor before continuing, ‘It has citrus and herb oils dissolved in alcohol and water. You dab it on your neck to release an invigorating fragrance.’
‘Comme ca.’ The vendor demonstrated
Elizabeth tried, and was pleasantly surprised: the scent cleared her head and helped her breathe more easily. She passed the sample to Justina. ‘It’s refreshing. Try.’
Miss Darcy came to join in, the repetition of Rondo alla Turca seemingly forgotten.
Alone in their room, Justina gave Elizabeth a little shove. ‘So who was buttering up Miss Darcy this evening?’
Elizabeth sniffed one more time the bottle of Kolnisch Wasser 4711 that Lindale had bought for her. ‘I saw she was upset after you tried to dazzle everyone by playing the same piece too fast.’
‘So it’s only coincidence that her brother is single, wealthy, handsome, and keeps throwing furtive glances at you?’
‘You simply can’t bear it when other people are praised rather than you.’
‘Ha!’ Justina blew out the candle more vigorously than necessary. ‘As if your opinions on music mattered.’
‘Then why repeat the Rondo?’
‘As an encore, since people enjoyed it the first time.’
‘You were peeved Miss Darcy got warmer applause, and had to prove you could play it better.’
‘Nobody noticed anything amiss, except you.’
‘Miss Darcy turned red.’
‘She said nothing afterwards, apart from how much she had enjoyed the Waldstein.’
‘She admires you.’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘As do I—most of the time.’
Justina sat up with a jerk. ‘Enough of your sanctimonious lecturing! You are a paid companion, not a governess or grande dame. I put up with you because you are occasionally amusing, and there’s an end to it.’
Elizabeth fell silent, seeing that the argument had gone beyond friendly bickering. But it was too late to apologise, and in any case she had no wish to climb down.
With a sniff, Justina dived back under the blankets and nothing more was said.