Elizabeth was glad to rise the following morning. She had spent the night running through the forest pursued by wolves, or losing herself in the castle, or being tormented by other unsettling nightmares, and she was pleased to put them behind her.
She dressed warmly, wrapping her thick shawl around her, and left her room. She found her way down from the turret easily, but then she stood hesitating on the landing, uncertain which way to go. Luckily one of the Count’s footmen happened to pass by. He looked at her fearfully, but she did not let him depart before she had made him understand that she wanted to eat and he led her to the dining room. Darcy was already there at breakfast. He rose with a smile on his face and she was instantly calmed. Here was reality. Here was sanity and repose—not in sleep, but in the waking world.
‘Has the Count already eaten?’ she asked, as she was served with a kind of thick porridge which looked unappetising but tasted surprisingly good.
‘Yes, he was up before daybreak. He has gone to consult with some of his friends and neighbours on the matter which has been troubling me. They are scattered over thirty miles or so of hard riding terrain, and he will not be back until tonight.’
‘Has he been able to give you any advice?’
‘Not yet, but I hope that an answer will soon be found.’
She waited for the servants to leave the room and then said, ‘I asked you once before if you regretted our marriage and you said you did not. I need to ask you again.’ She paused, uncertain how to continue. She wanted to say to him, Why don’t you come to me at night? But now that the moment had come, she felt tongue-tied and did not know how to broach the subject.
‘No, of course not,’ he said with a frown. ‘You have no need to ask me and I am only sorry I have made you feel that way.’
‘Are the problems anything to do with the marriage settlement?’ she asked. ‘Is that why you need your uncle’s advice?’
‘Not precisely, no,’ he said evasively. ‘But matters will soon be cleared up, I hope, and then we can forget it and enjoy the rest of our wedding tour.’
He took her hand and kissed it, and she felt heat radiating out from the place where his lips had touched.
A shaft of sunlight came in through the window and Elizabeth, having finished her porridge, said, ‘Let us go out into the courtyard,’ for she glimpsed a small garden, of sorts, through the window and longed to be out of doors.
‘By all means,’ he said.
The rain had abated, but despite the gleam of sunshine, the morning was sulky and promised more rain to come.
The garden itself must once have been attractive, but it was now overgrown. It was square in shape, backed by the grey stone walls of the castle, and in its centre was a stagnant pool, choked with weeds. Little light entered the courtyard and even that was sickly and pale, as if the effort to find its way down into the courtyard had depleted it of energy. Weeds sprouted between the paving stones and yellow grasses competed for space with unhealthy looking ferns. A statue of a satyr rose from the tangle of creeping plants which stalked the ground, but it was broken, its pan pipes lying beside it, coated with moss and lichen.
‘What a pity it is so overgrown,’ she said. ‘It is protected from the wind, and it might be pleasant to walk here if the garden were cleared.’
‘The castle is old and the upkeep is expensive,’ said Darcy, offering her his arm. ‘My uncle doesn’t have enough money to attend to everything that needs doing here. His fortunes have suffered a reverse of late and he has had to let some parts of the castle fall into disrepair.’ He glanced at her as they began to stroll through the garden. ‘I suppose I do not notice its deficiencies because I am used to them. I have loved the place since I was a boy. But you, I think, do not.’
‘No, I must confess I don’t,’ she said. ‘It seems very forbidding to me, and it is not just the castle. The language is strange, the gossip…’
‘It is not like you to listen to gossip,’ he said.
‘No, I know, but I feel different here, not like myself. I feel