en général I hear of things which concern the family very quickly. But we are out of the way here…’ he said, looking at Elizabeth curiously before turning his attention back to Darcy. ‘And so, you are married, Fitzwilliam. It is something I thought I would not see.’
‘There is a time for everything,’ said Darcy, ‘and my time is now.’ He completed the introduction, saying, ‘Elizabeth, this is my uncle, Count Polidori.’
Elizabeth dropped a curtsey and said all that was necessary, but she was not entirely at ease. Though the Count was courteous and charming she sensed an undercurrent of curiosity and something else—not hostility exactly, but something that told her he was not pleased about the marriage. She wondered if he too thought that Darcy should have married Anne.
‘The day, it is not a pleasant one for your journey,’ said the Count. ‘Alas, it rains often in the mountains and we have many storms. The darkness, too, it is not agreeable. But no matter, you are here now. My housekeeper, she will show you to your chamber at once. You will want to change your wet clothes, I think. I have already dined, but you must tell me when you would like to eat and my housekeeper, she will prepare a meal—unless you would like better to have something in your room?’
Finding herself suddenly tired, and knowing too that Darcy had something he wished to discuss with the Count, Elizabeth seized on the opportunity to retire to her chamber and said that something on a tray would be welcome.
The Count made her a low bow and rang the bell. It set up a dolorous clanging which echoed from somewhere deep in the bowels of the castle, and Elizabeth wondered how far the housekeeper would have to walk to reach the drawing room. Whilst they waited, the Count continued to ask them about their journey and commiserate with them on the difficulties of such remote travel. The housekeeper arrived at last, a dour woman, small and watchful. She seemingly spoke no English, for the Count addressed her in his own tongue. She inclined her head and then, saying something incomprehensible and yet at the same time so expected that Elizabeth had no difficulty in understanding it, she conducted Elizabeth from the room.
As the door closed behind her, Elizabeth heard Darcy saying to the Count, ‘I must speak to you on a matter of great importance,’ and the Count saying gravely, ‘Yes. I can see it. There is much to discuss.’
What there was to discuss, Elizabeth did not know, but she was beginning to wonder if it had something to do with the marriage settlement. That would explain why Darcy was reluctant to discuss it with her, for he would not want her to feel uncomfortable that her dowry had been so small. Her parents had given up all attempts to save many years before, and what little they had possessed had been used up when they had had to pay Wickham to marry Lydia. Elizabeth knew that Darcy did not care for himself, but for their children… It was customary for the bride’s portion to be settled on the children, and it might well be that Darcy needed the Count’s advice on how to compensate any future offspring for her own lack of funds. It was also possible that that was partly responsible for the coldness of some of Darcy’s family.
She followed the housekeeper across the hall and up a flight of stone steps. They had been worn in the middle where countless feet had trodden over the centuries, and their footsteps echoed with a hollow sound. Then the housekeeper turned along a twisting passageway before going up a spiral staircase and into a turret room.
Annie was already there, unpacking Elizabeth’s things. There was a large four-poster bed in the middle of the room, hung with red velvet drapes, and assorted pieces of heavy furniture arranged around it: a washstand, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a writing table, and, pushed under the table, a chair. There was also a dressing table, but it was of a different type to the other furniture, a delicate piece painted in soft blues and pinks, with slender legs tapering into dainty gilded feet. Narrow windows were set vertically into the walls, which were very thick. Beside the window hung heavy velvet drapes which had not yet been drawn. In the grate was a fire. It was as yet a puny thing, having been