trotted her up and down the road on a leading rein, showing off her paces and her neat, small hooves.
‘She looks as though she has Arab blood,’ said Elizabeth, as the groom brought her to a halt.
‘Yes, she has.’
Elizabeth took a carrot from the groom and gave it to the mare, feeling the animal’s soft mouth nuzzling her hand as the carrot disappeared.
‘Do you like her?’ asked Darcy.
‘I do indeed,’ said Elizabeth.
He helped her to mount, holding her hand as she stepped up onto the mounting block and then settled herself comfortably on the mare’s back, hooking one leg around the pommel of her side saddle before arranging her skirt and allowing the groom to adjust the straps. Then she declared that she was ready.
Darcy mounted beside her and the two of them set off towards the river.
The main city was dirty, but once they approached the Seine, it was clean and beautiful. The river was lined with grand buildings, their long elegant lines stretching gracefully into the distance. Their walls were of stone and their roofs were of a pale grey, as though a watercolourist had chosen the shade to echo the river and the sky.
They rode past the Louvre, where they had already spent a morning looking at the luscious paintings of Titian and Rubens, and where they now saw a great many people making the most of the Peace of Amiens to enjoy the activities which had long been denied them. Elizabeth enjoyed the sights, and she took pleasure in the neat steps of her mare and the warm air and her husband beside her.
‘When your cousin spoke of us visiting your uncle, which uncle did he mean?’ she asked, as they rode over a bridge and came to Notre Dame. The great Gothic cathedral rose against the skyline, a concoction of spires, rose windows, and buttresses which were impressive in their artistry and their size. ‘Not his father, I take it, or he would have said so.’
‘No, not his father. I have another uncle here on the Continent. It is to him we will go.’
There came a cry behind them: ‘Darcy! Elizabeth!’
Katrine and Philippe rode up on matching bays, both of them splendidly dressed, Katrine in a velvet riding habit and Philippe in a caped greatcoat with knee breeches disappearing into highly polished boots.
‘I hoped I would find you here,’ said Katrine. ‘This is the place to meet everyone in Paris. They are all here to see and be seen.’
‘I hear you had a visit from your cousin, Darcy,’ said Philippe, as he and Katrine fell in beside the Darcys and the four of them continued together. ‘He tells me that you are going to stay with your uncle. I envy you. It is many years since I visited the Alps. The clear air, the scented forests, the feel of the night wind against the face… I miss it.’
‘Have you ever been to the Alps before?’ Katrine asked Elizabeth.
‘No, never.’
‘You did not plan them as part of your tour?’
‘We did not plan on coming abroad at all.’
‘Ah. It has been a surprise, but not an unpleasant one, I hope?’
‘Not at all. I like to see new places and meet new people.’
‘Vraiment, it is good what you say. Without seeing new places and meeting new people we grow old before our time. We must make an effort to do new things, must we not? It is what gives life its zest.’
‘But you will return to Paris?’ asked Philippe.
‘No,’ said Darcy shortly.
Philippe raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
‘At least not for a while. But later, who knows?’ said Katrine.
‘You must,’ said Philippe, turning to Elizabeth. ‘We will never forgive Darcy if he deprives us of your company, will we Katrine?’
‘Me, I would forgive Darcy anything!’ she said with a longing look at him. ‘But come, Philippe, we must away. I have to be at the du Bariers’ in an hour and you have promised to escort me.’
They rode off in a flurry of manes and hoofs.
‘Why do you need to see your uncle?’ asked Elizabeth, continuing their earlier conversation. ‘From what you said to your cousin, it sounded as though you wanted his advice on our marriage and our reception in society. Is that so?’
‘Not in the way you imagine, no,’ he said.
‘In what way, then?’
He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully, and said at last, ‘We are different, you and I. We belong together and yet we are not the same. My uncle is very experienced.