15
Back at the Rosicky palace the master class was over, to be followed by luncheon with Maestro Tomá?ek. In the afternoon Lord Selborn was to meet professors at the Charles-Ferdinand University, while for non-diplomats the count planned a tour of historical Prague.
Justina was on the bed, recovering from her efforts during the morning. She sat up as Elizabeth entered, and said accusingly, ‘I noticed you sneak out. Was my performance too painful to endure?’
‘It didn’t satisfy Mr Tomá?ek.’
Justina sniffed. ‘What a bag of wind! Still, he does understand music, and might help us get introductions in Vienna.’ She waved her hand. ‘Enough of that! I believe you have some explaining to do, Lizzy Bennet.’
Elizabeth sat on the bed. ‘I’m going to confess to your parents this evening, if an opportunity presents itself. But I will tell you first.’
‘What have you done?’ Justina made no attempt to conceal her delight. ‘Let me guess. You’re a Russian spy. Secretly wed to Mr Darcy. A jewel thief sought all over Europe.’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘Four years ago a gentleman known to Mr Darcy ran off with my youngest sister. Lydia was 16 years old and very na?ve. They were never found. Yesterday at the opera I spotted this man in the stalls with a lady companion, and followed them home. It turned out that the lady was not my sister. I remained hidden but returned this morning with Mr Darcy.’
Justina stared, open-mouthed. ‘And learned what?’
‘That he had last seen Lydia two years ago in Brussels, where she caught the eye of a British officer.’
‘I suppose you were ashamed to admit this before.’
‘Yes. However, I did mention the consequences. My father died, exhausted and dispirited, after months of searching. We were left not only poor but disgraced.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Justina frowned. ‘I suppose Mr Darcy feels obliged to help since it was his friend that did the evil deed.’
‘ Not a friend.’ Elizabeth winced. ‘The opposite. If I have spoken ill of Mr Darcy, it was because I felt he should have warned us more clearly. However, I now realise that in this I was unfair.’
Justina brightened. ‘So you approve of him now?’
‘He has been kind and helpful, and I have no reason to question his integrity. I was simply mistaken.’
Justina fell silent, and Elizabeth wondered whether this revised portrait of Darcy might lean too far the other way: she had not entirely forgiven his misjudgement of Jane.
Eventually she asked Justina, ‘How do you think your parents will react?’
‘Are you sure it’s wise to tell them?’
‘Mr Darcy advised it, because your father has contacts in Brussels, and would be well placed to assist—if he were minded to do so.’
‘True.’ Justina sighed. ‘I don’t know, Lizzy. I wish you’d told us before.’
Lord Selborn’s meeting was at an ancient university centre called the Karolinum, in the maze of streets Elizabeth had traversed in darkness when following Wickham. Many sites of interest lay on the route, including the town hall and an ancient Gothic church dedicated to Our Lady before Tyn , so Lord Selborn’s entourage rode with the sightseers.
As they alighted, Justina joined Darcy, while Elizabeth accompanied Lindale. The town hall was renowned for a grand astronomical clock called the Horologe dating from the th century. A masterpiece in clockwork, it showed not only the hour but the current positions of the sun and moon; it also had moving figures representing the apostles, which appeared every time the hour struck.
Lindale was obviously wondering what had driven Elizabeth to run from the theatre the night before. He enquired discreetly, but she decided to deflect the question, preferring to confide in Lord and Lady Selborn first.
‘What will you discuss at the university?’
Lindale smiled. ‘I intrude on a secret?’
‘No, on a long story, which I will happily confide when we have more time.’
‘I could say the same about our meeting. But I will try, and one place to start is the defenestrations for which this city is notorious. The term refers to the practice of throwing your political opponents out of the window.’
‘From your grin I assume this happened long ago?’
He nodded. ‘For centuries this region was ruled by the Austrian House of Habsburg, whose kings were crowned as Holy Roman Emperors—and also Kings of Bohemia. This upset Bohemian nobles, especially those attracted to Protestantism.’ Lindale pointed. ‘At around the time this clock was installed, an anti-Catholic mob threw several town councillors out of a high window in Charles Square. All perished. Years later the Holy Roman Emperor forbade construction of Protestant churches in Bohemia, and three Catholic officials were thrown out of a third-floor window in the castle. Believe it or not, they all lived.’
‘Surely that’s impossible.’
‘The rival camps gave different explanations. According to the Catholics they were saved by the Virgin Mary. According to the Protestants they landed in a dung heap.’
Elizabeth could not help laughing. ‘And what has this to do with this afternoon?’
‘Bohemia remains part of the Austrian Empire even today. Its king is the Austrian king. Consistently the Austrian rulers have tried to suppress Protestantism and the Czech language. Their opponents no longer throw officials out of the window, but have organised a cultural movement under the rubric of the Czech National Revival. A few years ago, one of their number had the temerity to publish a book of Czech grammar—the kind of work many of their Austrian overlords would like to burn.’
‘Surely the Bohemians are in the right, assuming, as you say, that they are employing more civilised methods of persuasion than their forerunners.’
‘Yes. But the British government has rather different priorities. The last thing we want is Bohemians and Austrians fighting one another, thus weakening their resistance to the threat from the north.’
‘Tsar Alexander?’
‘Indeed. You’re becoming quite expert on European affairs, Miss Bennet.’
‘It is easily understood: I picture a room of squabbling schoolboys. But we digress. What do you hope to accomplish today?’
‘Make contacts among Czech academics. Find out their latest plans. Approve their aims, but urge patience.’
They walked on to the ancient Catholic church of Our Lady before Tyn. Here the group divided, and Edmund Lindale joined Lord Selborn and Johann Koch as they passed down a side road to the university. As usual, Elizabeth had found Lindale a stimulating companion, and she was left contemplating the tribal and religious feuds that each generation inherited from the last. Why did men care so much about minor differences in ideology and culture that they threw their rivals out of windows, or burned their writings?
She wondered what Darcy would say. And then wondered why she cared. Looking round, she noticed him still talking with Justina.
Elizabeth had hoped to meet the Selborns together before dinner, but Justina must have dropped a hint, since while exploring the multi-level gardens at the castle Lady Selborn drew her aside.
‘I understand you have something to tell me, Elizabeth.’
For the second time that day, Elizabeth told her story. Unlike Justina, Lady Selborn listened in silence, never interrupting; at the end she found a bench facing a view over the city.
‘Is that all?’
‘Yes.’
‘I see.’ She pressed her lips together. ‘I would like to have learned this before.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Please understand.’ A sigh. ‘I do not believe that a person should be judged by the behaviour of their relatives. I appreciate that your life has been sadly altered by this rash act of your sister’s, for which you have my sympathy. Nevertheless, I feel a breach of trust. Everyone has secrets, but news of your family’s misfortune has plainly spread: it was known, for instance, to Mr Darcy. What if I had learned of it from another source? Lady Catherine de Bourgh for example? How could I defend you—and myself for employing you—with no knowledge of the details?’
‘I should have informed you at the interview?’
‘Preferably.’
‘And you would have employed me?’
‘Maybe, maybe not, but you should have told me in any case.’
Easily said, Elizabeth thought, by a lady from a wealthy family. But she left this unspoken.
Back at the palace, Elizabeth was relaxing before dinner when the maid Sarah tapped on the door.
‘Excuse me, ma’am, his lordship is back and would like to see you.’
Elizabeth followed to a room Lord Selborn was using as an office. She had expected to find Lady Selborn as well, but he was alone, writing at his desk.
‘Miss Bennet! Make yourself comfortable.’ He pointed to a chair and finished a sentence. Having expected a reception as cold as Lady Selborn’s, Elizabeth was momentarily relieved. But she recalled that Lord Selborn, as a diplomat, was invariably polite: this did not mean she was forgiven.
‘Well.’ He put his pen aside. ‘I have been informed of your recent adventures, and the history behind them.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, for not …’
He raised a hand. ‘My dear Miss Bennet, let me speak. And if I may offer advice, do not be so eager to apologise. Facts first. Interpretation later.’ He paused, then continued, ‘So. Your sister runs off with an officer from the militia. She is lost, your family is left bereaved and disgraced. To help support them you apply for a position as Justina’s companion. My wife feels it was your duty to inform us.’ He sniffed. ‘I do not.’
Elizabeth flinched but said nothing.
He smiled. ‘The outspoken Miss Bennet is dumbstruck? Let me tell you a little about diplomacy. Its purpose is to seek solutions satisfactory to all parties. Which is what I try to achieve. But I do so from a partisan standpoint. My duty is to further the interests of my country. Not those of the Netherlands, or Prussia, or Bohemia, but the United Kingdom. And so I am selective in what I confide. I avoid untruths. But do not tell all.’ He extended an arm. ‘Since you are an astute young lady I imagine you perceive an analogy here. You too seek the general good, and you too do so from a partisan standpoint. You try to be fair to my family. But your duty is to your own.’
Elizabeth stared at him, fascinated. ‘You believe I acted correctly?’
He shrugged. ‘It is not for me to judge you. Leave that to St Peter. Suffice to say that you did what I would have done in your place.’
‘You are being very kind to me, sir. I wonder …’ She took a deep breath. ‘My sister was last seen two years ago in Brussels …’
Lord Selborn nodded. ‘I know, and yes, if you like I can write to the governor requesting news of a missing British citizen. Can you provide details of your sister and the officer she was with? Names, dates, anything that would aid identification.’
Elizabeth frowned. ‘Certainly, but can we trouble an important official with such a problem?’
‘The governor will delegate the task to a clerk, and we can suggest an insertion in the local newspapers.’
‘Thank you so much.’
He pointed to pen and paper. ‘Shall we do it now?’