Elizabeth’s room was homely, with pine furniture. There was a picture over the bed, but the real picture in the room was the view. Framed by the window, it was magnificent. Elizabeth rested her arms on the window ledge and watched the sun setting. It turned the sky golden as its last rays blazed out, then flooded it with orange and red as the sky around it grew darker, changing from blue to purple, and then, as the sun sank at last, to black. The white finger of the mountain could still be seen, glowing softly in the ethereal light of the stars that pricked the sky. Elizabeth watched it still, delighting in the novelty and the splendour of its majesty, until the wind blew cold and she drew the curtain.
She washed and changed and then went down to dinner. The dining room was a simple apartment with only three tables, each flanked with benches. But the room was pretty, with long gingham cushions on the benches and gingham curtains at the windows.
Despite the remoteness of the place, the Darcys were not the only guests. A middle aged English couple, a Mr and Mrs Cedarbrook, were also staying there. They had an air of solid respectability about them and whilst her husband’s expression was absent-minded, Mrs Cedarbrook’s face wore a sensible aspect. They were dressed in good but unostentatious clothes, with Mrs Cedarbrook wearing a cashmere shawl over her cambric gown and Mr Cedarbrook wearing a well-tailored coat and breeches with a simply folded cravat.
The inn was so small that friendship was inevitable, and the four of them were soon engaged in conversation.
‘Have you come far?’ asked Mr Cedarbrook, as their host brought in a large bowl of something savoury and proceeded to ladle appetising soup into clay bowls, placing large hunks of crusty bread on the plates next to them.
‘From Paris,’ said Darcy.
‘Ah, Paris! How I love Paris,’ said Mrs Cedarbrook.
‘Humph,’ said her husband, tasting his soup. He made an appreciative noise and took another spoonful. ‘Big cities are not for me.’
‘My husband is a botanist,’ explained Mrs Cedarbrook. ‘He prefers the countryside. We are on a walking tour, collecting plants.’
‘New species,’ said her husband as he broke off a piece of bread. ‘There are plenty of them in the Alps. What do you do?’ he asked Darcy.
‘I am a gentleman of leisure,’ said Darcy.
‘A man needs a hobby, even so,’ said Mr Cedarbrook. ‘You should take up botany.’
‘My dear, not everyone wants to be a botanist,’ said his wife.
‘Can’t think why not,’ he returned.
Mrs Cedarbrook smiled indulgently, but accompanying the look was also an expression of good humour and common sense. She reminded Elizabeth of her Aunt Gardiner, who treated Mrs Bennet’s foibles in much the same way as Mrs Cedarbrook treated her husband’s eccentricities.
‘Do you always travel together?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘We do now,’ said Mrs Cedarbrook. ‘When the children were younger I stayed at home because I did not like to be away from them for months at a time, but now that they have all married and have homes of their own, I enjoy our journeys and I like to see something of the world.’
‘And what do you do when your husband is studying plants?’ asked Darcy.
‘I have my sketchbook and my watercolours, and I make a pictorial record of everything we see,’ she replied.
‘And very useful it is, too,’ said her husband.
They talked of their experiences in the Alps over the meal, sharing their pleasure in the scenery. They also shared with each other information about the journey, for they had approached the inn from different directions, and so they knew what difficulties their fellow guests would face on the following day.
When they had finished their meal, their host brought in a bottle of some local spirit and Mrs Cedarbrook said to Elizabeth, ‘I think it is time for us to withdraw.’
‘Gladly,’ said Elizabeth.
It was a long time since she had had a woman to talk to—a sensible, mature woman—and she felt herself in need of someone to turn to.
As there was no withdrawing-room, they retired to Mrs Cedarbrook’s chamber and there they sat and talked. All the time, Mrs Cedarbrook watched Elizabeth and after a while she said, ‘Something is troubling you, my dear. Can I help?’
‘No, it is nothing,’ said Elizabeth.
‘I have two grown up daughters and I can tell that something is wrong. Will you not trust me?’
Elizabeth was longing to do so, but she did now know how