20
Invitations were accumulating so fast they had scarcely an evening free. Elizabeth understood now why the Selborns had been eager to visit. Vienna was a magnet that drew the crème de la crème from all over Europe—not just the wealthy and powerful, but musicians, artists, poets too. Paris, the main rival, was still in turmoil after Bonaparte’s defeat and the restoration of the monarchy. Culturally as well as politically, Vienna was to Europe what London was to Britain.
Their stay coincided with the jubilee of composer Antonio Salieri, featuring concerts ranging from grand opera to exclusive recitals; Lord Selborn also received invitations from distinguished salonnières . But through the good offices of Prince Metternich, his foremost coup was a last-minute offer of eight tickets for the Hofball —a dance at the Hofburg or royal palace held the day after their meeting with Herr Beethoven.
With such largesse there were no difficult decisions on who should attend. Selborns, Darcys, Elizabeth, were included, the remaining places going to Lord Selborn’s senior aides: Lindale, and surgeon and translator Johann Koch.
The ballroom doubled as a grandiose throne room for Emperor Franz. From floor to high ceiling the prevailing colouring was gold, imparting a glow that contrasted with palms beneath the throne. Overhanging the sides were balconies which accommodated the orchestra and provided extra seating for observers. Huge paintings filled the walls under the balconies, their gold frames adding to the grandeur. Most striking of all were the guests, numbering several hundred, in an exotic gamut of fashions that Elizabeth could have studied for hours.
A bell rang and a stocky man with short grizzled hair came to the rostrum on the balcony, and gravely called out Sinfonia Veneziana— Venetian Symphony.
At Elizabeth’s side, Lady Selborn whispered, ‘Salieri.’
‘They will play a whole symphony?’ Elizabeth said.
‘Short and sweet. You will see.’
The piece was cheerful enough, and over in ten minutes, after which Salieri made his way to the throne, bowed low to the emperor, and stood proudly as a medal was attached to his frock-coat.
‘And now we may dance,’ said Justina.
During the first set, Elizabeth found herself reduced again to the role of observer. Lord Selborn, combining pleasure with business, had joined Metternich’s party—and taken Lady Selborn and Edmund Lindale with him. Darcy had claimed Justina, and Mr Koch, Georgiana. Left alone, Elizabeth was content to watch the elegant European aristocracy cavorting in the grand arena, while daydreaming of her family back in England. The contrast could not have been sharper, yet her good fortune was still tinged with a nagging unease, a sense that matters had gone awry.
Two gentlemen passed, talking, and one glanced at her with a slight nod. As a reflex she smiled, and a minute later he returned—young, with a sensitive handsome face, light moustache, and fair hair wavy at the edges.
‘Graf Leopold Rietberg.’ A bow. ‘Dürfen wir den L?ndler tanzen?’
Elizabeth laughed and threw up her hands. ‘Englisch.’
He smiled and bowed again. ‘Count Rietberg. Would it please you to dance the next? It is a traditional dance popular here. The L?ndler.’ His English was nearly perfect.
‘Certainly, sir, but you should know, firstly, that I am a humble Fraulein, not a princess or countess; and secondly, that I don’t know the steps.’
‘These are grave problems, but not insurmontable, as the French say. In regard to point one, charm requires no title. For the rest, we can practise.’
‘When?’
‘Now.’ He pointed to a recess under the balcony.
‘All right.’ Elizabeth curtsied and introduced herself. ‘I am with Lord Selborn’s party.’
He nodded, as if something had become clear. ‘I came with Prince Metternich. My cousin Eleonore is his wife.’
His manner was open and pleasant, but Elizabeth could not help wondering what was going on. Had Lady Selborn recommended her as a lady needing a partner? Or had Metternich instructed his in-law to subtly interrogate her? But a dance would do no harm, and if questioned about politics she could plead ignorance.
‘So. The L?ndler. It is in three time,’ Rietberg continued. ‘Which presents a problem, since the Allemande is in four. But we will ignore the music and dance to my count. One-two-three, one-two-three. First walk. Now spin. Then hop. Very good, Fraulein. You are a natural dancer.’
‘And you are a natural flatterer.’
‘A little encouragement, to assist the learning process. Now, join hands and spin.’
The steps were rather complex, but they persevered until the interval, upon which he released her hand.
‘Enough. We may rest.’
He escorted her to her chair, and left, just as Justina returned with Darcy, and pulled her immediately aside.
‘Who is that Adonis, Lizzy?’
She explained, noticing a familiar glint in Justina’s eye. Count Rietberg was undeniably good-looking, in the manner of a poet—Byron perhaps. Justina plied her with questions. Where is he from? Who introduced you? Does he attend concerts? Elizabeth could only reply that she did not know …
‘Come on, Lizzy, you must have talked of something!’
‘I told you. The dance steps.’
Justina raised her eyes to the ceiling.
On returning to claim Elizabeth for the L?ndler, Count Rietberg found himself the object of great curiosity. Lady Selborn, as ever, was gracious. Justina introduced herself with a theatrical curtsey. Only Darcy seemed unmoved: a formal greeting, a protective glance at Elizabeth, and that was all.
The music started, and Rietberg led her to the floor.
‘I hope you have not forgotten the steps, Fraulein.’
She smiled at his teasing manner. ‘I hope you have not forgotten my name.’
‘Touché, Miss Bennet! Don’t hop yet. Spin!’
‘You distracted me.’
He fell silent, and she concentrated until the steps became automatic before asking, ‘Have you visited England?’
‘War has restricted my generation. But I have studied with good masters, both at university and before.’
She studied his face, still boyish, the eyes signalling humour and curiosity. ‘You are an intellectual, perhaps.’
‘Not a man of action, at any rate. If you favour a dashing captain, you are dancing with the wrong partner.’
She winced, recalling the Meryton militia. ‘Officers can be troublesome in my experience.’
‘Interesting. Do you wish to elaborate?’
‘No.’ A pause. ‘Why did you invite me to dance?’
‘Is such an action out of place, at a ball?’
Elizabeth laughed, reminded of exchanges with Darcy, except that the count had a lighter touch and seemed actually to approve of her. ‘But why me?’
‘You seek flattery?’
‘Truth. And you are evading the question.’
Their hands joined in an intimate spin, their eyes just inches apart. ‘I liked your thoughtful expression as you sat alone.’ He said. ‘And the way you smiled. My instinct detected a kindred spirit.’
‘First impressions are unreliable, I have found.’
‘If I may speak frankly, you will always fascinate a certain kind of man, Fraulein. You also dance well—when you recall the steps.’ He paused, assessing her. ‘You are musical?’
‘I play a little. But for talent and dedication I cannot rival my friend Lady Justina, whom you met a few minutes ago.’
‘The lady in the dark green gown?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘You should not undervalue yourself, Fraulein Bennet. But I too like music, which I hear often at the salon of my friend Frau Karoline Pichler. It is attended as much by poets, novelists and composers as by aristocrats. I could secure an invitation if you like.’
‘I’d be delighted—as would my friends.’
‘Then I will ask …’ He broke off as the first dance of the set ended. ‘Now you must rest.’
She smiled, enjoying the playful way he gave her orders.
Suddenly she had a surfeit of partners. Darcy immediately reserved the waltz. Count Rietberg introduced his friend, who requested the fourth set. Meanwhile, Rietberg directed his attention to the other English ladies, ignored Justina’s attempts to fascinate him, and danced with Georgiana—to Elizabeth’s amusement and delight.
She had learned the Viennese waltz for the Frühlingsball in Frankfurt, and now saw its connection to the spin sequences in the L?ndler. Darcy said little, concentrating perhaps on the unfamiliar steps, but seemed moved, his eyes drawn repeatedly to her face.
‘You will become giddy,’ she said lightly. ‘According to Count Rietberg one should look upwards, not at the partner.’
‘Why are you not following his advice?’
‘Have I been looking at you?’
‘Most of the time.’
Elizabeth fell silent, taken by surprise. On reflection, she did feel a need constantly to study Darcy’s expression. Why would this be? It dawned on her that she needed to know what he was thinking, and in particular, whether he approved of her or disapproved.
She had danced four sets and was talking with Lady Selborn when Edmund Lindale asked her for the next.
Elizabeth sighed. ‘I was planning to sit this one out.’
‘The supper set then?’
‘Promised to Count Rietberg.’
‘I see.’
He was about to leave, disconsolate, when she said, ‘We can talk, if you like.’
Lindale pointed to the balcony. ‘Above, so we can observe better?’
They took the stairs opposite the orchestra and found secluded seats. Their position offered a clear view of the emperor, impressive from a distance in black and gold, but actually thin, with an impassive face expressing little intelligence or humour.
‘The Emperor shows little interest in the ball,’ Elizabeth said.
‘I’m not sure he’s interested in anything, except opposing progress.’
She smiled. ‘Explain!’
‘He was the last of the Holy Roman Emperors,’ Lindale said. ‘Having abolished the post ten years ago.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘He feared Bonaparte would conquer Austria and take the role himself.’
‘Not an admirer of Napoleon, then?’
Lindale winced. ‘Not at all! Which would explain his anger when the Corsican married his daughter.’
Elizabeth laughed. ‘All families squabble. There would be fewer wars in Europe if princes and princesses stopped marrying one another.’
‘Interesting notion. You should share it with Lord Selborn.’
She shook her head. ‘I have been informed that it is improper for a woman to originate ideas. What do you think of the emperor?’
‘He clings to the familiar, perhaps because he is simple-minded. Do you know, he opposes machinery? In England, engineers are developing looms, threshers, railways. Austrians may have perfected the old, but under his leadership they will lose ground.’
She touched his arm. ‘It is so rewarding to speak with a man who understands the world and is willing to explain it to me.’
He hesitated, before saying, ‘Miss Bennet, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you.’
Elizabeth flinched, trying to hide her disquiet. ‘Yes?’
‘You must have noticed …’ He reddened. ‘I realise our backgrounds differ. You were born a lady. I was not born a gentleman. Yet I am cognisant of your circumstances and believe a union between us would be practical as well as pleasurable. Do you recall our first conversation, in Brussels?’
‘Yes.’ It was an occasion difficult to forget, preceding as it did the sudden appearance of the Darcys. ‘We concluded, I believe, that we were on opposing trajectories: you, ever upward; myself, downward.’
‘But we agreed also that fate was fickle. Miss Bennet, I am not yet wealthy. I hold a responsible position that commands a good salary. With normal luck I will rise in my profession. My father owns factories and investments that will one day come to me. I rent a town house in Barton Street, convenient for Westminster and near the abbey and the park gardens. It has two live-in maids. These arrangements are frugal, but they allow me to invest. I cannot yet support your family in the manner they once enjoyed. But I promise they would be far more comfortable than at present.’ He smiled awkwardly. ‘I have never made such a proposal before, Miss Bennet, nor have I been advised how to go about it. I should affirm, no doubt, that I find you wonderful in every way, and can imagine no greater happiness than winning your hand. But I assume you have discerned these feelings already.’
‘I am not altogether surprised.’ Elizabeth bestowed what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘We have been friends from the outset, and I hope will remain so.’
His face fell. ‘Forgive me, I am clumsy in these things.’
‘Not at all!’ She looked across the arena. ‘Yours is the third offer I have received, and by far the most agreeable. You have been clear, honest, and have left me in no doubt of your respect and affection—both of which I return. As to my response …’ She turned to face him again. ‘I thank you, for the feelings expressed, and your willingness to help my family. To marry you would be a privilege. But I have erred in the past by making decisions on impulse. May I request time to reflect?’
He brightened. ‘I may hope?’
‘Yes, but you should reflect too! On my many faults. On the poverty and shame of my family. On your ambitions, which may be thwarted if you take on these further responsibilities. Let us both reason it through calmly before reaching a decision.’
He breathed deeply. ‘We must go down soon, since another suitor awaits you.’
She laughed. ‘The count, I am sure, thinks me an amusement. A sentiment I fully reciprocate.’