The air grew ever colder until the very waterfalls were frozen, plunging downwards in huge sheets of ice that glimmered green and white in the unclouded sunlight.
They saw no one on their way, save for a stray shepherd or two and, here and there, a hunter. Of wildlife they saw little, only the chamois who ranged over the crags and occasionally some hardy mountain cattle.
At last they began to descend, going down through the clouds, where the foggy vapour closed around them like a damp hand and where they could see nothing except the whiteness all around them. But eventually, wet and shivering, they emerged, to see the mountain track becoming wider and less steep beneath them and, far below, the green and verdant grass of the plains. The air began to grow warmer, and they felt they were leaving winter behind them and entering spring. The rocks and crags were gradually replaced with trees and grasses and then bright swathes of meadow, spotted with the greens and blues and yellows of the late wildflowers.
They stopped for a rest on a grassy slope above the mountain’s foot.
Jean-Paul turned to Darcy and said something that Elizabeth did not understand, but she understood Darcy’s reply: he was thanking Jean-Paul for all his help and bidding him adieu. Jean-Paul nodded his head in token of leave-taking and then, catching up the reins of the mules, he began to walk back up the foothills, returning to the rocky crags amongst which he made his home.
Elizabeth watched him go with regret. He had been a stalwart presence as the crossed the Alps, sure-footed and knowledgeable, and she had been grateful to him for accompanying them and showing them the way.
‘Do we walk now?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘No, it is too far for us to walk. We hire horses over there,’ said Darcy, indicating a nearby farm.
He gave her his arm and they began to walk towards it.
‘What are those places I can see in the distance?’ she asked, turning her attention to the lands that lay at the bottom of the slopes.
‘Piedmont,’ said Darcy, ‘the foot of the mountain. Beyond is Lombardy, and in the far distance you can see Turin. And beyond Turin lies Venice.’
They hired horses at the farm, hardy animals that clopped slowly through the foothills, and continued their journey with the river Doria rushing along beside them. They passed through a landscape of forests, with streams and lakes varying the view, and with castles and monasteries nestled amongst them.
At last they reached the valley, where sheep were grazing placidly. They came then to the walled town of Susa, and as they passed through the gate, Elizabeth said, ‘I never thought I would be so happy to see a town.’
Though the Alps had been sublime, the joys of hot water now awaited her, as well as a soft bed and a hot and filling meal.
They were soon at the inn. As they rode into the courtyard, there were suspicious glances from the other people there, including the grooms, who looked at the farm horses askance, but then recognition dawned on the face of one of the grooms and he called out something in Italian. The innkeeper hurried out of the inn with his wife behind him, uttering a long and excited greeting of which Elizabeth understood not a word, but she understood his smiling face and his bow and his wave towards the open door.
She and Darcy were made very welcome, and the innkeeper’s wife was soon leading Elizabeth upstairs, calling the maids as she did so, and before many minutes had passed, Elizabeth found herself in a small but pretty bedroom with a hip bath all ready and waiting for her. She was surprised at the hurry, until she saw herself in the looking glass and recoiled in horror from the sight that met her eyes. She had not brushed her hair for days and it was like a bird’s nest, tangled and matted with pieces of twig and leaf clinging to it. Her clothes looked as though they had been slept in, as indeed they had, and her face was streaked with dirt. If she had not entered the inn with Darcy, at a place where he was well-known, she was sure she would have been driven out as a vagrant.
She removed her clothes gratefully, sinking into the luxurious water with a sigh of contentment. At last, when her fingers began to crinkle, she washed her hair and stepped out of the bath. She dried herself on a fluffy towel and then sat before the fire to dry her hair.
When it was almost dry, the innkeeper’s wife entered the room with a maid behind her, bearing a bowl of soup and a large hunk of bread, and Elizabeth ate it thankfully. It was followed by a meal that was unknown to her, with a meaty sauce ladled over something neither soft nor hard, pale gold in colour, and cut into long, thin strips. She had great difficulty eating it and was glad she had elected to dine in her room, since much of the sauce ended up on her chin! But it was tasty, and when it was finished, she felt replete.
She went over to the dressing table where she brushed the tangles out of her hair and as she did so, her mind drifted back over the strange and wonderful events of the last few days.
She had thought about little on the journey across the Alps; indeed, the way had been so treacherous and so sublime that she had had little time to think of anything but picking her way amongst the crags or looking with awe at the magnificent views. But now she recalled the danger of all those at the castle and she could not put their fate from her mind.
She tried to tell herself that they would be unharmed, and that Darcy had been right when he had reassured her that all would be well, saying that the Count had survived worse. She reminded herself of the thick walls of the castle and the drawbridge and the mercenaries, but she could not be reconciled. If there had been no danger, then why had they fled, undertaking such an arduous if breathtaking journey?
She thought of the Count’s strange words, Get her away from here. It is her they will not stand for, and wondered if she could have heard them aright. Try as she might, she could not see how they made any kind of sense. And yet she and Darcy had left the castle soon afterwards. It was a riddle without an answer; another riddle without an answer, for her life was becoming increasingly full of them.
And yet her life was full of joys, too.
Now that she had left the discomforts of the journey behind, she could recall the marvellous and wonderful sights of the last few days with more and more pleasure, both the unexpected heights of the mountains and the unexpected depths of her husband’s character. She remembered his tenderness, and with quiet wonder, she recalled the expression of pure love on his face when she had woken to find him watching over her.
The next few days were busy with all the necessary activities attendant on their sudden arrival without any of their possessions.
The local dressmaker visited Elizabeth in her rooms and promised her some new clothes pronto. Luckily, Susa was a stop for many of the English travellers who visited Italy, and the dressmaker was used to meeting the needs of ladies who were newly arrived in the country. She knew that they required clothes in the Italian fashion, and that they required them quickly, and so she kept a store of dresses ready cut and half sewn in a variety of sizes. She arrived with three attendants who carried boxes of such dresses, and Elizabeth spent a delightful morning trying on a multitude of garments. As she viewed each one in the mirror, the dressmaker pinned and tucked and hemmed until the fit was right, and then Elizabeth stepped out of them, taking care not to scratch herself on the pins.
At last the dressmaker left, promising Elizabeth that at least one of the dresses would be ready by the following morning and that the rest would follow soon afterwards.