Piedmont; the great river Brenta with its weeping willows trailing their branches in the water; Venice rising like a dream from the lagoon, basking in the morning sunlight, ageless and timeless and serene. And the people: Philippe with his gallantry and Gustav with his irrepressible good humour, and Sophia with her ancient dresses and her love for her city. And her memories: the rise of the merchant princes; the building of the palaces; the creation of the sculptures; the paintings and the poetry; the journeys of the great explorers; the triumphs of Marco Polo with whom she spoke and danced. Yes, Jane, she knew him, and she still sings and dances, though he has long since turned to dust. She is a custodian of all things past, she and others like her, and my dear Darcy is a custodian too—a custodian, a guardian, and a protector: one of the timeless ones. My dearest Darcy is a vampyre. And yet he intends to rid himself of his curse and his blessing for me.
He is going on a dark and dangerous path and I am going with him. How long we will be away I do not know, nor if we will ever return. But I love him with all my heart and where he goes, I go. Think of me often if you never see me again, and call one of your children after me! Not your firstborn; she must be Jane like her mother, but the second, unless it is a boy and then Elizabeth will not do!
Oh, Jane, how good it is to talk to you, even though you are so far away. Even in a dark and dangerous time, I feel lighter of spirit just thinking of you.
I must go. I hear the horses below. But I could not leave without letting you know the truth of my life. If I return, I might never tell you. But if I die in some underground chamber then it will comfort me to think that you will know the truth, you who have always known everything about me, and that you will know the truth about my dearest Darcy, too.
And now, my dearest, most beloved sister,
Adieu.
She called for Annie and gave her the letter, which she had sealed and on which she had written Jane’s direction.
‘Annie, I must speak to you about a matter of great importance. Mr Darcy and I are going on a journey and there may be danger ahead. If we do not return within a week, I want you to post this letter to my sister. Post it with your own hand, Annie. Let no one else touch it.’
‘I will, Ma’am, I promise you,’ said Annie, taking the letter.
‘In the meantime, you must stay here and look after the lodge whilst we are away. If neither I nor Mr Darcy return, then you must take passage to England. There is money in the drawer of my dressing table and you are to have it all. Mr Darcy’s valet will go with you, and he will know how to make the arrangements. Go to my uncle in Gracechurch Street, you will find his direction in my writing desk, and he will help you.’
‘But what am I to tell him?’ asked Annie in concern.
‘Tell him…’ Elizabeth paused. ‘…tell him that we went on a journey and that we did not return. Tell him that the area was infested with bandits and that we must have met with an accident or violence in the hills.’ The sound of horses’ hooves and the wheels of a cart came up from below. ‘And now I must go.’
She put on her pelisse and cloak, changed into sturdy boots, and pulled on a pair of gloves, and then she ran downstairs. She went into the sitting room where she found Darcy.
He was dressed in outdoor clothes. His caped greatcoat was thrown over his tailcoat and breeches, and he wore riding boots on his feet. He was looking down at something he held in his hand and there was a look of unexpected pleasure on his face, his handsome features arranged in a smile.
On hearing her enter the room, he held his hand out to her and she saw that it contained a letter. Her heart jumped as she recognised it and she smiled all over her face. It was the letter she had written to Jane whilst she was being driven off in the Prince’s carriage.
‘The servants found it just where you threw