“Indeed, although I would venture to suggest that her knowledge is more recent than theirs. Remember that William has been a close friend of the Continis; they have probably been in his confidence for some time. No, Kate my love, it would seem that we were the only ones who were completely ignorant of the situation until tonight,” he said and mumbled as he climbed into bed beside her, “Now, I wonder what Mama would say when she hears about this.”
Kate was wide awake. “Do you mean to tell her?” she asked in some astonishment.
“Hmmm… I do, I think I must,” he said, rather drowsily, “or she will never understand and she will never forgive William, which would not be fair to either of them.”
Kate wasn’t sure she knew how this was to be accomplished, but said no more. They had learned a good deal in one evening; they were to learn even more the following day. When Darcy and Kate came down to breakfast on the morrow, they found only Becky and her husband at the table. Clearly, Signor and Signora Contini had decided to take theirs upstairs. It had been quite a late night; some of the guests had seemed loathe to leave until William Courtney and his party had departed.
Trying to make conversation, Kate remarked that Fraulein Clara had been in fine voice last night, with which Aldo Contini agreed enthusiastically.
“She certainly was. I have rarely heard such a sweet tone in such a young soprano. It is quite remarkable.”
“And a most excellent choice of songs, too, perfect for her voice and the occasion,” Kate added, and Darcy was equally full of praise.
“Indeed, I grow very tired of young ladies who sing endless difficult compositions, meant chiefly to show off the range of their voices rather than entertain their audience.”
Becky said casually, her eyes still on her plate, “I would suggest Mr Courtney, with his wide knowledge of concert repertoire, may well have been responsible for that happy choice. I understand that William has had a great influence upon Fraulein Clara’s musical development. When they met, she was just an incidental singer in a dance hall; apparently, yet as you can see, she is now a diva!”
“Has William Courtney known Fraulein Clara long, then?” Kate asked.
“Oh yes,” Becky replied, having first looked around to ensure that the servants had left the room. “He first found her singing in some little place in Vienna while he was on a concert tour of Europe. He was so impressed with her voice, he invited her to sing at one of his concerts and, I understand, she has been with him ever since.”
Kate and Darcy looked at one another and then at Becky. “Do you mean she has joined his concert party?” Kate asked.
Becky smiled. “Well, yes, in a manner of speaking,” she said and then dropping her voice, added, “In truth, I am told they are lovers and have been for over two years. It is well known in musical circles, especially in Europe, though it is not spoken of here in England and is certainly not known to his family in Derbyshire, of course.”
Aldo Contini, who had kept well out of the conversation, intervened to say that he understood from his aunt Signora Contini that Mr Courtney wished to marry the lady, but feared his family would not accept her.
“He is very devoted to her, I believe,” he added.
Darcy’s face revealed exactly his disappointment and confusion. “I cannot comprehend it. Why should William have been so afraid of his family’s disapproval? He is quite independent of them, surely if he loves her and wishes to marry her…”
Becky interrupted him gently. “My dear Darcy, William is a celebrated conductor from a respectable family. His father was a clergyman and his mother a veritable saint. Fraulein Clara is a nobody, with a pretty face and a good voice, whom he discovered in a dance hall in Vienna! How do you suppose his family would have responded? Do you think his sister, Eliza Harwood, would have accepted it? Or Mr and Mrs Darcy? I doubt that even Cassy would be comfortable with the situation. Is it likely that they would have accepted Fraulein Clara? I think not.”
Darcy was not prepared to agree. “You may be right about the others, Becky, but I do not believe for one moment that his mother, my dear aunt Emily, would have been set against it. Look how well she accepted Jude’s choice of Teresa.”
“Indeed, but there is no comparison between young Jude, who wanted to be nothing more than a farmer, and William, for whose musical career his mother sacrificed almost everything. And Darcy, I do believe William knew this and did not wish to disappoint her.”
“And is it possible he will marry her now?” Kate asked.
“It is possible, but unlikely,” replied Becky.
“But why not? Now Mr and Mrs Courtney are no longer alive, surely William is free to marry without any inhibition,” Kate persisted.
Aldo Contini intervened again, explaining patiently, “In musical circles, there is no prohibition against a musician having a mistress; many do. Some have both a wife and family as well as a mistress. It is accepted in the same way it is accepted here that the Prince of Wales may have a mistress or two, and people turn a blind eye, as you say. But were Mr Courtney to marry the lady, he may offend some people in high places, especially here in London, persons like Her Majesty the Queen, and certain doors will be closed to him forever.”
“But she may continue to live as his mistress without any consequences?” Kate seemed bewildered.
“Indeed, except perhaps for herself. But she is devoted to him, she owes everything that she is today to Mr Courtney and his encouragement of her talent.” Mr Contini shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sadly, it is unfair, I agree, but it is the way of the world, Mrs Gardiner.”
There were tears in Kate’s eyes, and the sigh that escaped him made it clear how very disappointed Darcy was, and yet, there was nothing he could do about it. In his heart, he felt a deep sadness for his cousin.
* * *
The journey back to London was not as pleasurable as the one out to Richmond had been, despite the fact that their companions were the same. What they had learned at Richmond weighed heavily upon their minds, and while it seemed everyone had an opinion on it, no one was comfortable with the subject, so it went unmentioned, making for a most unusual reserve between the two couples.
Kate was tired, and Darcy, concerned for her condition, wished only for the journey to end. That it rained intermittently along the way served only to make the road seem longer.
It was late when they reached Portman Square; they thanked the Continis sincerely and went indoors. There were a few cards and a sealed note on the table in the hall, which Darcy picked up as he went upstairs.
Dragging off his boots, he lay on a couch in his dressing room and opened up the note. He was surprised to find that it was from William, inviting him to call at his apartment on the morrow at any time after 10 a.m.
When Kate appeared, bathed and ready for bed, Darcy accompanied her to their bedroom and showed her the note.
Kate was amazed. “Clearly he wishes to speak with you about some important matter. Do you suppose he intends to take you into his confidence about Clara?” she asked eagerly, but Darcy was not prepared to speculate. “I cannot be sure; I hope so. If he did, I know what I would say. At the very least, it may mean that he is prepared to be frank with me, and I would appreciate that very much,” said her husband.
* * *
After a late breakfast, Darcy called for a hansom cab and set off for his appointment with his cousin. He was unsure what he could expect, but hoped that it would provide an opportunity for openness between them.
Arriving at the apartment, he was shown into a pleasant morning room, where he waited but a few minutes before William Courtney walked in. Darcy rose and they shook hands. As William urged him to be seated and offered him a glass of sherry, which Darcy politely refused, he noted that his cousin, though still very elegantly dressed, appeared rather more strained than he had been the previous night, where he had clearly felt he was among friends. He seemed restless and uneasy, and Darcy was sure William had something of consequence to say to him. As they faced
one another, Darcy seated and William standing in front of him or walking around the room, the two men seemed to realise that this had to be a moment of truth between them. Further concealment was impossible.
After some hesitation and walking around the room in an increasingly distracted manner, William stopped in front of his cousin and said, “Darcy, I owe you an apology. What I am about to do is unfair to you, and I am indeed sorry to have to involve you in a matter that I should have had the fortitude to deal with myself. I should have been open and frank with my family and especially with my dear mother. She deserved better from me. Indeed, when I came to Derbyshire for her funeral, I did contemplate quite seriously telling either your father or my aunt Caroline the facts, but I could not bring myself to do it. I guess I was not willing to risk even greater censure. So I’m afraid I squibbed it,” he said, looking somewhat ashamed. “And now, I am truly sorry for using you as I am about to do, to explain to my family and such friends as I might still have in Derbyshire my present situation and future intentions.”
Darcy listened and watched, transfixed, as William continued, “The matter, as you may have guessed already, concerns Fraulein Clara, whom I have known for some years now. She has been my protégée and loyal companion, and I love her very dearly.”
Darcy made some attempt to convey his appreciation of the young lady’s talent and beauty, but his cousin held up a hand. “I know, she is beautiful and very gifted, but, Darcy, above all that, she is an absolute angel. She not only loves me, she understands and appreciates what my music means to me; it is my life. I love her and I have asked her to marry me, Darcy. I know several members of my family, especially my sister, Mrs Harwood, and even my brother-in-law, Julian, will be shocked. Their disapproval, based for the most part on their ignorance of her nature and character, is guaranteed, and I do not intend to subject Clara to their prejudices and criticism.” He continued in a determined voice, “For these and other reasons, I do not believe it will be possible for us to marry and live here in England, which is why I have decided to return to Vienna, which is Clara’s home and the city in which we first met so fortuitously.”
Darcy listened as William went on, “We will be married and make our home there. I shall visit England, of course; I have engagements already confirmed for concerts here in London and in America, but my home will be with my wife in Vienna.”
At first Darcy did not know what to say; he had been both shocked and saddened by William’s words. Yet, for the first time he had also been able to reach some understanding of his cousin’s situation. He tried to convey this but had great difficulty getting out the words.
“William, you have no need to apologise to me. I thank you for taking me into your confidence, and let me assure you that whatever any other member of your family may think, I am very happy for you. Fraulein Clara is a beautiful and gifted young lady, and you are indeed fortunate that she loves you so well. That is a great blessing. Yet, I am sorry that you feel you must leave England, which is your home. Are you completely certain that if you spoke directly to your family, they would not understand and come to accept that you love Fraulein Clara and wish to marry her?”
He seemed to be pleading with William, who smiled kindly and said, “My dear Darcy, your kindness and generosity does you great credit, but I am not very confident that too many members of my family will feel as you do. Some may—my aunt Caroline will probably understand, Mama used to say she has a romantic heart, and of course she had a great romance herself with her Colonel. But if I am to be quite honest with you, Darcy, I have to say that I have neither the time nor the inclination to submit myself and my dear Clara to their judgment. I intend to be a bit of a coward and let you explain the situation to them. It may not be easy, and I certainly have no right to ask it of you, but will you do me this great favour, Darcy?”
Darcy looked directly into his cousin’s eyes and said, “Of course, if that is what you wish. But will you in return answer me one question? It is something that has troubled me.”
“Certainly, ask away,” William replied.
Darcy steeled himself to ask, “Why, over all these years, did you not keep in closer contact with your mother? She, all of us, felt deeply hurt that you did not visit her. That, more than anything else, has hardened the hearts of your family and friends against you, especially my grandparents, who loved Aunt Emily dearly and will make it more difficult for them to accept uncritically your decisions.” He was eager not to be misunderstood. “While Kate and I will gladly explain your present circumstances, the rest of your family may not accept that you could not find time enough to visit or write more often than you did, even when your mother was very ill.”
William answered directly and without any attempt at subterfuge. “Darcy, Mama knew I could not visit as frequently as I should have liked to. I was often away on tour, and I always kept her informed of my plans. But I did write to her, and Mama always replied poste restante,” he said.
“Darcy, I was very conscious of everything she had done for me to enable me to make a successful musical career. She told me she intended to leave the farm to Jude, and I agreed. I certainly had no need of it. When I saw her after my father’s funeral, I tried to help her, but she specifically forbade me to send her any money. We may not have met often, but my mother knew a good deal about my life; she even knew that there was someone I cared for. I did not tell her who it was, because I feared she might confide in Jessica or Elizabeth, and it would not have been fair to Clara to let her name be tossed around and her reputation traduced. Besides, I was aware that Mama was ill and had no desire to cause her more anxiety, so I concealed Clara’s identity from her, but she knew there was someone, and in one of her last letters to me, which I have here, she wished me success in my concert tour and in my pursuit of personal happiness. So in truth, she did give me her blessing.”
William had taken out a packet of letters from his bureau and laid them open on the coffee table before Darcy, who could see quite clearly that they were in Emily’s hand. He did not wish to pry or to read them, but the direction and dates were sufficient evidence that William had spoken the truth. Clearly, mother and son had corresponded quite regularly, even though Emily had not chosen to reveal this to the rest of her family. Perhaps, Darcy thought, it was her way of protecting William’s secret. He knew how very dearly Emily loved her son.
“But, William, had you told her, she would not have hurt your feelings; she loved you very much. She would have been most unhappy to know that you intend to leave England for good,” said Darcy, still struggling with his feelings. He had grown very close to Emily over the years when he had helped with the management of her household and farm.
“I know,” said William, “but, Darcy, with Mama gone, there are very few reasons for me to regret leaving England. Sadly, I am not very close to many members of my family. I shall miss you, of course, though I have only recently come to know you well, and I hope that you and Kate will visit us in Vienna one day. It is a wonderful city, and you will be very welcome in our home. Meanwhile, I have only happiness to look forward to in marrying the lady whom I have loved for so long and whose affections I have enjoyed and cannot live without. I shall count on you to hand these letters to Mr and Mrs Darcy, Jessica and Julian, and your parents, and satisfy the curiosity of my family. Will you wish me happiness, Darcy?” he said, handing Darcy a few sealed letters.
Darcy bit his lip; he felt deeply the emotions that this encounter had aroused in him and, rising, grasped his cousin’s hand. “Of course I will, William; how could I not? I, who know what it is to enjoy that special bliss of loving and being loved in return, wish you both every happiness and will gladly be the bearer of your good news to the family, for it is indeed good news. Have no doubt of it.”
Clearly moved, William impulsively embraced his cousin and said, “Thank you, Darcy, and God bless you. You will write to me? The poste restante address on my card will always find me. I shall look forward to hearing from y
ou. You must send me all the news from Derbyshire.”
Darcy promised he would write and could not help the stinging tears that he fought back as he put William’s letters in his pocket and left the apartment. He did not know when he would see his cousin again. At least, he thought, there was one piece of great news, which everybody would be glad to receive. Contrary to all their suspicions, William Courtney had not coldly neglected his mother in selfish pursuit of his career. Mother and son had confided in each other intimately, almost to the end. It was a discovery that had changed Darcy’s own estimation of his cousin, and he hoped it would do the same for others in the family, especially Jessica and his grandparents. He knew they would not all be of one mind; some, being predisposed to dislike William, would be more difficult to persuade than others. His own parents would probably be fair; so perhaps would his grandfather, Mr Darcy, when he knew the whole truth. He could not vouch for Mrs Darcy, though, or Julian—they seemed to have their minds set against William already.
As for Robert and Rose, their opinion of anyone seemed dependent only on their own perceived self-interest, and he could not imagine that they would have any reason to think better of their nephew and would probably delight in thinking the worse of him.
Be that as it may, Darcy was determined to work untiringly to restore his cousin’s reputation amongst his friends and family. For the first time since he had become seriously concerned about the matter of William Courtney, Darcy had reason for hope. He was now convinced that this least understood and most distinguished of Emily’s children had not betrayed his mother’s ideals at all. Not only had he continued to write to her, but in putting his love for Clara before all else, William was closer to his mother than anyone could have known. Had not love been the guiding principle in all of Emily’s life? When regarded in such a light, William Courtney’s story was one Darcy felt he would be quite proud to tell.
When Darcy revealed these matters to Kate, she was as astonished as he had been and wondered how he would break the news to the rest of his family.
Legacy of Pemberley (The Pemberley Chronicles; Pride and Prejudice Sequel Series) Page 13