28
Wednesday 24 th July 1816, three weeks later
They had taken a direct route west through Linz, Munich, and Stuttgart to the Duchy of Luxembourg. In place of Lord Selborn’s convoy, they were now limited to a single coach-and-four to carry Elizabeth, the Darcys, their manservant Burgess, Georgiana’s maid Hannah, and Monsieur Lejeune, a neat bespectacled man whom Darcy had employed as guide. To avoid a crippling load they were carrying only essential clothing, the rest having been sent separately.
Lejeune was quietly spoken and eccentric; although in his thirties, he had neither married nor settled into a single profession. He had studied medicine awhile, then worked as a chef in Brussels, but travel was his ambition, and after accumulating savings he had toured the German Confederation compiling notes on routes, currencies, hotels, and above all, the paperwork required to smooth one’s passage from one tiny Duchy or Kingdom to the next. As a result he was constantly useful, even taking the reins when Burgess tired.
Frustratingly for Elizabeth, she was seldom alone with either Georgiana or Darcy. At inns she had her own chamber, Georgiana preferring to share with Hannah. In the coach she tried to make conversation, choosing her topics carefully in the presence of Lejeune. Darcy responded, but Georgiana looked out of the window and said little.
They had parted with the Selborns at dawn, the day after the ball. Justina had brought a parting gift for Georgiana but for Elizabeth and Darcy had only cold formality. Lady Selborn politely wished them a safe journey. Only Lord Selborn spoke with warmth, taking Elizabeth aside to wish her success in all her endeavours, and encouraging her to write if she needed further help in tracing Lydia.
Having reached a major city they could at last enjoy the comforts of a good hotel, and the invaluable Lejeune recommended the Grund, situated above a bend in the Alzette river. While their rooms were prepared, Darcy joined Burgess and Lejeune to organise repairs and reprovisioning of their carriage, leaving Elizabeth and Georgiana to take afternoon tea in the hotel drawing room. They found a secluded seat at a window overlooking an ancient bridge; on the far bank they could just see the Ducal Palace outlined against a grey sky.
‘A pleasant spot.’ Elizabeth smiled at Georgiana. ‘And if we are fortunate, the prospect of a good night’s sleep.’
‘That would be welcome.’
Elizabeth sipped tea, trying to cover her dismay at this typically routine reply. She recalled seeing Darcy’s sister for the first time at Almack’s, and later at Brussels: shy, yes, but graceful and full of goodwill. To see her now slumped in apathy was hard to bear—especially since she, Elizabeth, was probably responsible. She pointed across the drawing room. ‘They have a pianoforte. We could try it later.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Miss Darcy …’ Elizabeth dropped her voice and leaned closer. ‘Forgive me for speaking plainly, but I believe you have been unhappy these last weeks, probably owing to … what happened between me and your brother. I realise it must have come as a shock, since you expected and hoped for a different outcome.’
Georgiana regarded her, frowning. ‘Expected, yes …’
‘And desired, surely? Justina is your friend. I have seen how much you admire her.’
‘How could one not?’ Georgiana looked out of the window, her eyes dreamy. ‘She is rather overpowering.’
Elizabeth gasped. ‘You were … ambivalent?’
‘William is different with you. Amused, relaxed, tender. I believe you are better suited.’
‘Oh.’ Elizabeth paused. ‘That is a great relief. But in this case, why are you upset with me?’
‘Upset with you?’ Georgiana reddened. ‘More the other way about, I think.’
Elizabeth stared at her. ‘What?’
‘Did I not accuse you once of blackening my brother’s reputation? An assertion now obviously ridiculous?’
‘But that was long ago, and the fault was entirely mine!’
‘And later? When we heard you were to marry? Instead of congratulating you, I thought only of comforting Lady Justina.’
‘And you believe this has angered me?’
‘It was improper. I have noticed your embarrassment in my company ever since.’
Elizabeth touched her arm. ‘Dear Miss Darcy, you acted correctly. I deserved no less. If it’s any comfort, I have reason to think that Justina’s distress was superficial. Did you not observe her at the ball?’
‘She was very lively with Count Rietberg at the supper, after they danced.’
‘True.’ Elizabeth smiled. ‘So perhaps we have both been worrying needlessly? It seems you are not too cross with me, and I certainly have no reason to be offended with you.’
Georgiana bit her lip, as if afraid to reply.
‘There is something else …’
‘Yes?’
‘It will seem silly. But I see how William cares for you, and …’ Tears came to her eyes. ‘Sorry, Miss Bennet. I am being ridiculous.’
‘Is it not encouraging that a gentleman should behave thus to a future wife?’
‘Of course. I have always known it would happen, one day. And rejoice that he has chosen someone like yourself, and not …’ A grimace. ‘Others I could mention.’
‘Someone like Justina?’
‘I was thinking more of Miss Bingley.’
Elizabeth laughed. ‘That is understandable.’
‘So I am delighted, and wish you joy, and yet—for years I have observed William’s manner towards ladies that seek to charm him. Usually he is polite; occasionally, alas, aloof or dismissive. What I have never seen, except during these last days, is a lady to whom he shows tenderness. That sentiment, hitherto, has been kept for …’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Myself.’
‘So you have a rival.’ Elizabeth grinned. ‘But perhaps his heart is large enough to accommodate us both?’
‘I am being childish.’
‘You are being honest.’
‘You see, I never knew my mother, and father passed away when I was ten. Since then I have depended entirely on William—and, occasionally, our cousin.’
‘It will work out fine. You will see.’