On Darcy’s instructions Burgess was driving the horses at a good lick, even though this meant a bumpy ride. The route was unfathomable—deliberately so, since their pursuers would have reached Villa Foscari and interrogated the farm workers. Leaving the villa, Burgess had taken the obvious road west, but once out of sight they veered south along a smaller track which looped around a vineyard, then turned off again between fields planted with maize and sugar beet.
As she lay half awake, she replayed in her mind their adventures at the villa, and especially the conversation in which Hanson and Miss Dill had admitted their elopement. Why, she wondered, had they not pretended to be married? Their lack of artifice could be seen as brazen arrogance, a deliberate flouting of convention. Alternatively it could be seen as admirably honest, or even considerate, given Hanson’s assumption that Darcy and Elizabeth were also illicit lovers. Instinctively Elizabeth favoured the latter interpretation, because she liked them—or she liked Alice Dill, at least; Hanson’s impudent confidence was less appealing. Yet he had helped them, and had remained polite under provocation.
She recalled with a smile Darcy’s angry rebuttal (How dare you?)—whatever he thought of her now, his protective instincts were keen as ever. Yet Darcy too had exhibited surprising moderation in apologising to a man that he must despise. The reason must be that he needed Hanson’s collaboration to secure their escape. She had never thought of Darcy as diplomatic, but on this occasion he had kept his feelings under control and the main objective clearly in view—that is, their safety. Or rather her safety, since a man acting from self-interest would scarcely have attempted such a rescue in the first place.
If only he would occasionally act irresponsibly instead of being so consistently admirable. It was insufferable! But in her present state an honourable guardian was what she needed, and she had felt cherished as well as safe as he carried her …
A jolt woke her from a daydream as the wagon passed over a rut. She levered herself up and looked around, first to the front where Burgess sat holding the reins, wearing a farm worker’s straw hat for disguise, then to the notebook that Miss Dill had been studying. Or rather, sketchbook, since the pages were filled with delicate drawings of wild flowers.
She leaned over to get a closer look. ‘Miss Dill, these are exquisite. Are they your work?’
Miss Dill blushed. ‘I found this in a meadow downriver from the villa. The petals are blue, with hairs on the leaves and stem. I believe it is called Blueweed, or Viper’s Bugloss.’
‘And this one?’
‘Sweet violet, also common in early spring. The colour was blue, shading to purple.’
‘Do you paint too?’
Miss Dill glanced at Hanson. ‘Gerard advises me to concentrate on drawing, but I would like to try with water colours when I am more skilled.’
‘Show me some more.’
Miss Dill turned a page, and brought out a tiny guide book that she had been using to identify the flowers. As they passed the time in this pleasant way, Elizabeth was impressed by her companion’s determination. Merely to be accomplished would not satisfy her. She aspired to be a serious artist, and also a botanist who could explore mountains and deserts and bring back pictures of little-known species. In no way was she comparable with Lydia. Elopement had allowed her to travel around Europe in the company of an experienced artist. It was not a romantic fancy, but a well-conceived means of achieving her goal.
Elizabeth would have liked to discuss Miss Dill with Jane, or her father. For a moment homesickness overwhelmed her, until she looked up and noticed Darcy in quiet conversation with Hanson. How would the master of Pemberley view Miss Dill’s ambitions, and her decision to run away from home? It interested her that she did not know. The conventional response would have been abhorrence, but she had come to see Darcy as an independent thinker who might privately hold surprising views. If only she could ask him now …
She leaned back, and drifted into another daydream.
They were no longer moving. Elizabeth blinked, looking for Miss Dill, but the wagon was empty.
She crawled to the back, which faced a narrow track through woodland. A crunch of boots on twigs startled her and she withdrew, only to be reassured as Darcy came into view.
‘Miss Bennet! How are you?’
She hesitated. ‘Still shaky. But a little better.’
‘We’ve been picnicking with scraps from the villa.’ He lifted her gently down. ‘Shall I carry you?’
‘I’ll try to walk.’ She took his arm, and he led her to a clearing where one of her blankets had been spread on the dusty ground. Hanson, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Miss Dill, greeted her with a cheeky smile and pointed to a basket holding brown rolls, cheese, apples, and dried figs.
She kneeled on the blanket, feeling queasy at the sight of the food. ‘Where are we?’
‘I thought it best to hide,’ Darcy said. ‘So far as I can tell we are near a road that leads north to a small town called Oriago. My plan is to cross the river there after dark.’
‘Why not leave now, before our pursuers catch up?’
‘Because that is what they will expect. We cannot outrun them, remember. Our only chance is to remain out of sight for such a long period that they have no idea where we are. Then their forces will be dispersed far and wide. They might even conclude that we have got away, and abandon the search.’
Elizabeth regarded Hanson and Miss Dill. ‘And how do you feel about this? I fear we are delaying you, perhaps even exposing you to danger.’
Hanson shrugged. ‘Mr Darcy has contributed to costs, which is welcome since I am short. We are in no hurry, and Carandini’s men have no reason to harm us.’
‘In any case it is our duty to help,’ Miss Dill said. ‘It is shocking that you have been treated so ill. I’m sure that if our situations were reversed, you would feel the same.’
Elizabeth threw an anxious glance at Darcy. Was this true, she wondered. Darcy had selflessly helped her own family—Lydia, and now herself. But would he moderate his plans in order to save a runaway couple? She feared he would not, and what was more, that he was only accepting their help now because of her.
‘Where is Burgess?’
Darcy pointed. ‘Watching the road. I doubt we are in any danger here, since nobody saw us drive in. Still, it is best to know what they are up to.’
She smiled at Miss Dill. ‘I pray that one day I can return your kindness.’
Miss Dill smiled back. ‘Waiting here is no hardship, for there are many flowers for me to draw.’
Elizabeth tried to eat, but the uneasiness remained. Why was she on edge? Yes, their situation remained perilous, but so it had been when rowing across the Venice lagoon.
Darcy raised a bottle. ‘Wine?’
He poured a little into a cup, and she accepted it gratefully, wishing that she could lie back as before and float into oblivion.
19
As dusk fell Darcy held a council of war with Hanson and Burgess, leaving the ladies to rest before the next leg of their journey. They saw only two choices. The first was to cross the river and follow a direct route to Padua; the second was to stay in the warren of smaller roads below the river and approach Padua from the south-east. Darcy was tempted by the second option because it made capture unlikely. However, he was concerned that they were asking too much of Hanson and Miss Dill; he was also anxious for Elizabeth’s health. Her alertness was improving, but she suffered increasing attacks of nausea and sweating. A week wandering around the countryside in a wagon would do her no good: she needed a comfortable bed, and access to a physician in case of emergency.
On balance, then, he favoured the riskier plan. Follow the road straight up to Oriago, cross in the late evening, and head north-west towards one of the main roads. They might run into a constable in Carandini’s pay, but so far Burgess had spotted no pursuers; perhaps the search had been called off, or redirected to another area.
As they set off, the skies were clear, wit
h the promise of a moon to light their way. For a while the roads were deserted, but entering the town they found themselves in a crush of carriages all heading for the river. The chaos was in a way reassuring. Walkers joined the procession, some carrying lanterns. Elegant couples strolled along the roadside, with children running here and there, and dogs barking.
‘Can you see the river?’ Darcy called to Burgess.
‘Just coming into view, sir.’
‘Stop here!’ Darcy turned to face the others. ‘I’m going to reconnoitre.’ He noticed Elizabeth’s frown, and added: ‘It will take only a minute.’
Descending the step at the front he felt a prickle of danger, as if a man might be training a musket on him. It was nonsense, he told himself. In this confusion, nobody would notice him. He advanced with the crowd and observed the bridge from the shelter of another parked carriage. It was a swing bridge, hinged so that it could be parted to allow barges to pass. At present pedestrians and carriages were crossing, so river traffic was halted. At the near end, outside a small hut for the attendant, a constable stood next to a man whose face looked familiar. The man was leaning against the railing and peering into every carriage; now and then he also swept his gaze across the pedestrians. Darcy melted back into the crowd, and advanced a few more steps.
There was no doubt. The man was a servant from Carandini’s villa on Lido. Not the footman who had opened the door, but another, whom Darcy had seen momentarily when he broke in.
What to do? Their pursuers knew they had left in a two-horse wagon, so hiding inside would not work. Walking Elizabeth across was too risky. Turning round would be difficult when all the traffic was directed towards the river. So many people lined the bank that the routes left and right were impassable.
He went back and explained the situation.
‘We can turn,’ Hanson said immediately.
Darcy pointed down the road. ‘It would be like trying to swim against the tide.’
‘We have to try,’ Miss Dill said.
‘No!’ Elizabeth took Miss Dill’s arm. ‘I cannot bear to be such a liability. You and Mr Hanson need to continue to Padua. If necessary, Mr Darcy and I can get off here.’
‘How?’ Miss Dill asked. ‘You have no carriage of your own, and no way of carrying your luggage.’
Elizabeth looked at Darcy. ‘We will find a carriage.’
Darcy sighed: this was not London, where one could hope to flag down a hackney. To unload their trunk and other bags in this confusion would attract attention, and leave them unable to move quickly if spotted.
‘I agree with Miss Bennet that we have inconvenienced you enough,’ he said to Hanson. ‘But we cannot unload here.’ He spoke to Burgess. ‘Listen carefully. The servant on the bridge is from Lido, and has never seen your face. If Mr Hanson and Miss Dill agree, I suggest you stay with them until Padua, where you can find a boarding house and unload our luggage at your leisure. I will get off now with Miss Bennet, and join you by another route. Once you are settled, stand outside the Basilica of Saint Anthony every day at noon, so that we may find you. Clear?’
Burgess nodded, and Darcy turned to Hanson. ‘It’s a lot to ask, but can you do this? I can give you some ducats to cover any additional expenses.’
Hanson considered. ‘Is it not possible that the constable will detain us anyway? He will have our descriptions from the people at the villa.’
‘We can say that we dropped Mr Darcy and Miss Bennet at a village near Villa Foscari,’ Miss Dill said.
‘That should suffice.’ Darcy frowned. ‘But your point is well made, since they may wonder why a servant previously in my party is now travelling with you.’ He turned to Burgess. ‘I have it! When Miss Bennet and I have descended, give the reins to Mr Hanson, then walk across the bridge and wait a little further along. Provided you are not seen with them, you cannot be identified.’
Hanson clapped his hands. ‘Excellent.’
Darcy looked at Elizabeth. ‘Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?’
A grimace gave away her unease as she shrugged. ‘I see no other option.’
Miss Dill took her hand with a crestfallen expression. ‘Dear Miss Bennet, you are not well.’ She raised her eyes to face Darcy. ‘Where will you go?’
‘I cannot say. We must improvise.’
Darcy loaded essential items into a leather bag, and handed Hanson two gold coins from his belt. Miss Dill wept, and Elizabeth hugged her briefly before crawling to the front, where Darcy was waiting to help her dismount.
The wagon moved on, and they were alone at the roadside.
20
Darcy’s heart beat faster as Elizabeth looked up at him, her eyes huge with panic. He had read once of the symptoms of laudanum withdrawal, after learning that his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh had badgered a physician into prescribing the remedy for Anne. As the drug wore off Elizabeth was more alert, and steadier on her feet, but might suffer any of the accompaniments of a cold—fever, headache, sore throat and eyes—as well as attacks of anxiety. The extent of these symptoms would depend on the dose, which must have been substantial enough to keep her compliant, and administered over a period of several weeks.
‘What are we to do?’ she gasped, breathless from the effort of dismounting.
He took her arm, and led her into the crowd seething towards the river. ‘Let us walk along the bank so that we can keep the bridge in view. I want to make sure that our friends cross safely.’
‘Might we be seen?’
‘I think not, provided we act like everyone else. If we walked away from the river we would be pushing against the crowd and more likely to attract attention.’
‘I wish I had a bonnet.’ She looked down, as if to hide her profile, but kept pace without difficulty.
‘Burgess has crossed.’ Darcy slowed to keep the wagon in view as it stopped at the attendant’s hut. Carandini’s servant was talking to Hanson, who shrugged and pointed back into the wagon. The constable looked carefully, and after a brief conference waved them on.
‘It’s all right,’ Darcy said. ‘They are through!’
‘Thank God!’
‘We must take care now.’ Darcy turned sharp left as Carandini’s man climbed up the bank and surveyed the crowd. ‘Don’t look back.’ He resisted the temptation to keep the servant under observation, and kept in step with the crowd, which thickened as they approached a cluster of rafts lagged together to form a platform.
Elizabeth tugged his arm. ‘What is happening?’
He stood tall for a moment, and saw musicians seated on a crimson carpet ringed with flowers and lanterns.
‘Let’s get closer to the bank.’
The press was now so dense that they could scarcely move. Squeezing through a gap, Darcy pushed Elizabeth to the front, and she cried out in delight as a silver-haired conductor strode to a makeshift podium. The orchestra struck up an eccentric piece in which violinists became percussionists by banging bows against music stands.
‘Rossini,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I heard it at a concert, while you were away touring Florence and Rome.’
‘It’s a cheerful piece.’
‘Can we stay? Are we safe now?’
Darcy risked a look behind, and saw no sign of pursuit. ‘Yes, but let’s edge forward when we get the chance.’
They gained twenty paces during the overture, and the crowd began to thin. Elizabeth withdrew her arm to join in the applause, facing him with a radiant smile. Without his support she stumbled, and he caught her as she fell.
‘Pardon me.’ She looked down, deflated. ‘I’m ashamed to feel so feeble.’
‘You’re tired.’ He pressed a hand to his aching temple, realising that he too was exhausted.
They had to find an inn.
After twenty minutes of painstaking progress they had passed only two unsavoury locande, and Elizabeth, making a brave effort, was near to collapse. Two locals had recommended Hotel Petrarca, supposedly a short way along the riverbank. Darcy was
wondering whether it existed at all when he saw a villa set further back than the rest, with an ornamental garden at the front and space for carriages to unload.
The foyer was well lit, with a tiled floor and comfortable chairs. Hopeful again, Darcy helped Elizabeth to a divan before speaking to the manager. The words came easily, since he had had many such conversations on his travels. He needed two adjoining rooms for himself and la signora. The sentence was scarcely out before the manager shook his head. They were full. Not a single room. Because of the festival.
Darcy tried again. He was willing to double the usual rate. It would only be for one night. The lady was tired after a long journey, and help would be hugely appreciated. He produced a bag of ducats from his frock-coat pocket to signal the form such appreciation might take.
The manager was a plump mustachioed man with eyeglasses perched on his nose and a self-important manner. After waving his hands and protesting throughout Darcy’s appeal, he fell silent on seeing the bag of coins, and finally raised a hand. There was a suite with two rooms. One with double bed, the other a bathroom. It was reserved permanently for use of a count. It should be empty tonight, but they would have to leave if the count arrived unexpectedly. Of course, by letting the room to someone else, the manager would be placing himself in a most vulnerable position …
The chamber was on the first floor at the back—which at least meant only one flight of stairs for Elizabeth. It had a wooden floor with Persian rugs, and practical furniture including a four-poster bed, wardrobe, and small table with two chairs. Next door was a washroom with bath and commode: evidently the count valued cleanliness.
‘You will have the bed, of course,’ Darcy said. ‘I asked for a cold supper to be brought up.’
Elizabeth came through to view the washroom, which was narrow and relatively bare.
‘Mr Darcy, you cannot sleep in this room.’
Darcy pointed to the copper bathtub. ‘I will borrow bedclothes and make myself comfortable here.’
Darcy's Journey Page 8