‘When, then, did Darcy see the error of his ways?’ asked Gustav.
‘It was not until many months later,’ said Elizabeth.
‘No? Darcy! You are a veritable blockhead!’ said Frederique.
Darcy smiled.
‘Ah, yes, my friend, you can afford to smile, you have at last won the hand of the beautiful Elizabeth and you bring her to us as your bride.’
‘But how did it happen?’ asked Carlotta. ‘You must tell us how Darcy changed his mind.’
Nothing would do for them but to hear a full recital. Elizabeth left out any mention of Georgiana and Wickham, and she passed lightly over Lydia’s elopement, saying only that Darcy had come to the aid of her sister when that sister found herself in difficulties a long way from home.
They were still asking her questions when dinner was announced, and over that meal, which consisted of venison, root vegetables, and partridge, they teased out more information about Elizabeth’s home in Hertfordshire. Gustav announced that he had been to England many years ago and he discussed its merits with Elizabeth.
The women were engaging and the men were attentive, so that Elizabeth felt herself charmed. For all their shabby clothes, they knew how to set her at her ease, and the men knew how to flatter her delicately and how to make her laugh.
After dessert, the port was passed round and the ladies withdrew. The Count’s female guests were full of admiration for Elizabeth’s gown and they were eager to hear about the Paris fashions.
‘Tell me, how are the sleeves this year? Are they long or short?’ asked Clothilde.
‘They are scarcely there at all,’ said Elizabeth. ‘They are nothing but frills at the top of the arm.’
‘That is all very well for a heated drawing room where the press of bodies makes one hot, but it will not do for the mountains where we have snow for half the year,’ said Isabella, laughing.
‘It might, if we sit close to the fire,’ said Clothilde. ‘I like the thought of sleeves that are nothing more than a frill.’
‘Do you really want to sit close to the fire all day?’ Isabella teased her. ‘No, you cannot sit still for more than a few minutes at a time. You would be jumping up and going somewhere, doing something.’
‘Not all the time; in the evening now and then sitting still would not be so bad if it meant I could be comme à la mode. And how are the skirts, are they all like your dress, with the waist very high?’
‘Yes,’ said Elizabeth. ‘They have been this way for some time.’
‘We have much to catch up with,’ said Carlotta. ‘We used to get the fashion journals, but since the troubles, they have not been so easy to come by.’
‘Then we must go to Paris,’ said Clothilde. ‘We must treat ourselves. Too long have we been content to live in the forests. We will take a trip to the capital and return laden with gowns and shawls and gloves and fans. We will startle our men folk with our fashionable dress and perhaps it will prompt them to go to town themselves and get some new clothes, too. I am sure they could benefit from them. They look very clumsy, our friends, next to Mr Darcy.’
‘I cannot believe Frederique will wear new clothes; his old ones are too comfortable,’ said Clothilde. ‘He will wear them until they fall from his back! Have you men like this in England, Elizabeth?’
‘We have men of all kinds,’ she said, ‘some who follow the fashions closely and some who dress as they please.’
‘Ah! Then it is the same everywhere, I think! But here they are now. We were just saying how we would like to go to Paris and buy some new clothes, and that you should come too,’ she said, as the men entered the room.
‘New clothes!’ said Louis in horror. ‘I cannot abide them. Always they are uncomfortable. They scratch or they are too tight or they are too loose, and they are never the right shape. A coat needs to be worn for a year before it is comfortable.’
‘You see, Elizabeth, we can do nothing with them!’ said Carlotta with a laugh.
A game of cards was suggested and everyone readily agreed to the plan. They were just taking their places at the card table when there came a sudden loud knocking on the front door.
Elizabeth looked up in surprise and all eyes turned towards the hall.
‘Now who can that be?’ asked the Count.
There was the sound of voices in the hall. The butler’s voice was angry and contemptuous, and the other, a woman’s voice, was feeble with age and yet at the same time resolute. A moment later the door was flung open and the old woman entered, followed by the outraged butler, who said something in his own language to the Count. Although Elizabeth could not understand his words, his indignation was clear, as was his step towards the old woman. But the Count lifted his hand and the butler stepped back, muttering.
‘We have before us an old crone who asks to tell our fortunes. What say you?’ said the Count.
‘Let her in!’ said Frederique, laying down his hand of cards. ‘It would be a thousand pities to miss such sport.’
‘What do the ladies say? Would it amuse them?’ asked the Count.
‘Certainly,’ said Clothilde.
‘But assuredly! I would like to discover what she makes of my hand,’ said Isabella with an impish smile.
The Count, his eyes glittering in the candlelight, turned to Elizabeth. ‘Do you object, Mrs Darcy?’
The old woman came forward. By the light of the fire Elizabeth could see that she was not as old as she had at first appeared. Her face was lined but not wrinkled, and her stoop was assumed. Elizabeth guessed that the woman was a friend of the Count’s, someone who had agreed to pose as a fortune-teller in order to amuse his friends, and she said, ‘No, I don’t object at all.’
‘Alors, then please, come closer to the fire,’ said the fortune-teller.
She spoke with a heavy accent, but she spoke in English, confirming Elizabeth’s opinion that she was a friend of the Count’s and not the peasant woman she appeared to be.
She established herself on a stool by its side, protected from the brightness of the candles by the shadow of the mantelpiece.
Clothilde stepped forward, but the old woman said, ‘Not yet, my dark lady. There is one here who must come before you; I see a bride.’ She fixed her eyes on Elizabeth. ‘I would give a fortune to the bride.’
Elizabeth went over to the woman and sat opposite her and the woman held out her hand.
‘You must cross my palm with silver,’ she said.
‘Ah! Now we come to it,’ said Frederique, laughing. ‘The fortune is nothing, the silver is all.’
There was a murmur of laughter amongst the Count’s guests and then Darcy stepped forward, placing a coin in the old woman’s hand.
The fortune-teller nodded, bit it, and then slipped the coin into the folds of her cloak.
‘Now, come close, ma belle.’ She took Elizabeth’s hand and turned it over so that it was palm upwards. ‘I see a young hand, the hand of a woman at the start of her journey. See,’ she said, pointing to lines that ran across it, ‘here are the dangers and difficulties you will face. Your hand, it is the map of your life and the lines, they are the dangers running through it. They are many, and they are deep and perilous. You will be sorely tried in body and spirit, and you must be careful if you are to emerge unscathed.’
‘That all sounds very exciting!’ said Gustav.
‘And very general,’ said Clothilde with a laugh.
She had drawn closer and was now standing by the fire.
‘You think so?’ asked the fortune-teller sharply. ‘Then give me your hand.’
Before Clothilde could react, the fortune-teller seized her hand and turned it palm upwards. She ran her finger across its lines and then let out a moan and began to rock herself.