Darcy too needed clothes, and he had a visit from the local tailor, who fitted him out for a new wardrobe.
As they were finishing their luncheon, which they had taken in a private parlour, there was a most welcome occurrence. The innkeeper entered the room and spoke to Darcy in a torrent of Italian. Darcy replied and the innkeeper, saying, ‘Si, Signor,’ left the room.
Elizabeth looked questioningly at Darcy.
‘A messenger has just arrived. He wishes to speak to me.’
‘Has he come from the castle?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘We will soon find out,’ said Darcy, throwing down his napkin.
He left the table and walked over to the fireplace, where he stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
The innkeeper returned and behind him was the messenger, a dishevelled young man of vigorous aspect who turned his hat in his hand.
‘Ah, Signor Darcy!’ he said, as he entered the room, adding something which Elizabeth could not understand.
He handed a letter to Darcy.
‘It is from the Count,’ said Darcy to Elizabeth as he broke the seal and tore the letter open. ‘The messenger has travelled night and day over the mountains, accompanied by two of the Count’s mercenaries, to bring it to us.’
Elizabeth went over to him and stood at his shoulder, eager to see what the letter had to say, but when Darcy unfolded it she saw that it was written in Italian. The handwriting was thin and spidery, and covered many pages.
‘Well?’ she asked impatiently as Darcy’s eyes scanned the first page.
‘The castle is safe,’ said Darcy, still reading.
‘Thank goodness!’ said Elizabeth with a sigh of relief.
She had feared the worst, and the message was a great comfort to her.
‘There was a brief skirmish when some of the locals managed to swarm through the postern gate and started setting fire to the flags and carts in the courtyard,’ Darcy continued, ‘but the mercenaries dealt with the situation quickly and the danger was soon past. The fires were doused and no lasting damage was sustained.’ He put the first page to the back of the sheaf and continued to read the second page. ‘Several of the mercenaries were injured, as well as one of the Count’s footmen, similarly some of the villagers took hurt, but there were no deaths and no serious injuries.’
‘And Annie?’ asked Elizabeth, looking over his shoulder and trying to see Annie’s name somewhere on the page.
He turned to the third page, and Elizabeth pointed to her maid’s name.
‘Annie is safe,’ said Darcy. ‘She begs the Count to inform you that she will pack your dresses carefully and give your letter to the messenger to post.’ He stopped talking, the better to read, and then when he had finished the letter, he folded it and gave his full attention to Elizabeth. He smiled. ‘They will all be with us soon, I think. The Count has already made arrangements for our retinue to be escorted over the mountains.’
‘The coach will not be able to follow us,’ said Elizabeth, remembering the precipitous paths and the narrow bridges across the ravines.
‘No, the coach will have to be sent round by sea, as will some of the larger and heavier items, but the Count’s men will carry most of our things across the mountains.’
‘Will we wait for them here?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘I think not,’ said Darcy. ‘They will travel more slowly than we have done because there are more of them and also because they will be carrying baggage, which will slow them down. I do not want to delay our journey. We can hire outriders here to accompany us. I will tell the Count what route we will be taking so that our entourage will be able to find us more easily when they cross the mountains. Perhaps they might even find us before we embark for Venice.’
He said something to the messenger and then went over to the side of the room where there was a writing desk. He sat down and, dipping the quill into the ink, he pulled a piece of paper towards him and wrote a note in a flowing hand.
‘How even your writing is, Mr Darcy, and how fast you write!’ Elizabeth teased him.
He smiled.
‘On the contrary, my writing is uncommonly slow!’ he replied.
‘It is a world away from Netherfield, is it not?’ asked Elizabeth, as she looked around the inn, with its homely pine table and pine benches, and to the view of the mountains beyond.
‘Yes, it is,’ said Darcy, pausing to look around him before continuing to sand his letter. ‘But not an unwelcome change, I hope.’
‘No, not at all. I am enjoying seeing more of the world.’
Darcy folded the letter as soon as the ink was dry and then he sealed it, pressing his ring into the wax to leave the Darcy imprint. He gave it to the messenger, who tucked it into a pocket inside his tailcoat, then he said something to the man in Italian, to which the messenger replied before bowing and departing.
‘There is no reason for us to stay in Susa,’ said Darcy. ‘Once our clothes are ready, we will travel on. I am longing to show you Venice and the palazzo.’
‘Palazzo?’ asked Elizabeth. ‘Do you mean a palace?’ she asked in astonishment. ‘We stayed with a count in the Alps, are we now going to stay with a prince?’
‘No, we are not going to stay with anyone. We are going to stay in one of my Italian properties, the Palazzo Darcy.’
‘Do you mean to tell me you have a palace?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘No, I mean to tell you that we have a palace,’ said Darcy, laughing. ‘It is on the Grand Canal, and I think, indeed I know, you will adore it.’
After the splendours of the mountains, Elizabeth took pleasure in the quieter beauties of the lowlands as they travelled through northern Italy towards Padua, where they intended to take the barge to Venice. They stayed overnight at an inn and the following morning Elizabeth was delighted to find that their retinue had caught up with them. Annie was amongst them, looking none the worse for her adventure, and Elizabeth soon heard an account of the fateful night, with all its alarms and violence, and then at last its peaceful conclusion.
‘I am so glad you are safe,’ said Elizabeth. ‘When the castle was attacked I feared the worst.’
‘It was nothing really,’ said Annie, with all the bravery of one whose ordeal was over. ‘It was a nasty moment when the mob broke through the postern gate, I don’t mind telling you, and when they ran into the courtyard setting fire to things as they went I was frightened, but the Count’s mercenaries soon took care of things. I must say, when we arrived at the castle, I didn’t like the look of them, but I was grateful for them that night and it was all over very quickly in the end.’
It had left its mark, however, for two of the Darcy footmen had left for England, saying they could take no more. The Count had tried to persuade them to remain by offering them more money, but when it became clear that no amount of money would make them stay, he had made up for their absence by sending two of his own men in their place.
From Padua they travelled on by river, taking the barge along the Brenta. Now that she knew that everyone was safe, Elizabeth’s spirits were in a state for enjoyment and she saw much to be pleased with. The villas of the Venetian nobles slid past in an ever-changing view of splendour, overhung with poplars and cypresses, and with willows dipping their branches into the river. And then the miraculous city of Venice came into view, rising from the waters like a dream.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ said Elizabeth as they drew near. ‘I had no idea anything could be so wonderful and yet somehow it seems unreal. How are the buildings supported? Why don’t they sink?’