‘I have my husband,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Of course. But sometimes a woman needs another woman to talk to.’

Elizabeth said nothing, but she had been thinking exactly the same thing. She had been troubled for some time, and she found it difficult to keep her feelings to herself, because at home she had always had someone to talk to.

‘You are a long way from your mother,’ said Mrs Cedarbrook.

‘Yes, I am,’ said Elizabeth.

She gave a rueful smile as she thought of her mother.

Mrs Cedarbrook said, ‘Ah,’ quietly, and added, ‘And your friends.’

‘Yes,’ said Elizabeth with a sigh.

‘You must miss them,’ said Mrs Cedarbrook kindly.

‘I do. But not as much as I miss my sister.’

‘If you need someone to talk to, my dear, I am here.’

Elizabeth looked at her uncertainly and then came to a decision. Mrs Cedarbrook was a stranger, but she was a sympathetic woman and Elizabeth needed to confide in someone. Her friends and family were a long way away and she had no one else to turn to in her need for a listening ear and, more importantly, some advice.

‘You are worried about something,’ said Mrs Cedarbrook gently.

‘It is only…’ said Elizabeth, not knowing how to begin. ‘It is just that…’

‘Yes, my dear?’

‘It is just that, sometimes, I don’t understand my husband.’

‘You have been married long?’

‘No, we are only just married. We are on our wedding tour.’

‘You seem very happy together. It is not difficult to see that your husband loves you very much.’

‘I wonder,’ said Elizabeth, looking down at her hands, which were pleating the fabric of her skirt in her lap.

‘What makes you say that?’ asked Mrs Cedarbrook.

‘It is just that he hasn’t so much as touched me in all this time. He’s attentive and friendly and considerate, we have a great deal to say to each other, and the way he looks at me—you have seen the way he looks at me.’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘But at night, when we could be alone, he avoids me.’

Mrs Cedarbrook looked at her thoughtfully.

‘You are very young. Perhaps he is just giving you time to adjust to your new life. Tempt him, my dear. You are very lovely, and there isn’t a man alive who could resist you if you put your mind to it.’

‘That’s just it,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I don’t know how.’

‘You are a woman in love, you will know how when the time comes. Go to his room if he will not come to yours. It will not be long before you are happy, I am sure.’

‘You have taken a load from my mind,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Just to be able to talk about it has been a help.’

There was a noise from below.

‘I think the gentlemen are coming to the end of their conversation. Go now, my dear, and I am sure your problems will soon be over.’

The two women rose and Elizabeth returned to her own room. Annie helped her to undress and then, saying, ‘Thank you, Annie,’ Elizabeth waited only for her maid to leave the room before she went through the interconnecting door into her husband’s room. She had hoped to find Darcy there, but the room was empty, save for a faint, lingering scent of him.

On the washstand, his valet had laid out his brushes and razor, and Elizabeth went over to them and ran her hands over them. These were the things he had touched, and she let her fingers linger there. Her eyes wandered round the small, rustic apartment until they came to rest on the window. It had been left open. The night air was fresh but cold, and it carried a hint of frost. She went over to the window and prepared to close it, but her hand rested on the catch for a moment and she looked out over the tranquil, moonlit landscape. The lake was shining placidly in the silver light and, far off, trees were silhouetted against the white backdrop of the mountain. Hanging above it was a gibbous moon, phosphorescent in the darkness.

Her attention was attracted by movement close at hand and she saw the dark shape of a bird—no, a bat—heading towards the window. She closed it quickly, leaving the bat to hover outside. As she looked at it she was seized with a strange feeling. She thought how lonely it must feel, being shut out, being a part and yet not a part of the warmth and light within.

Then the bat turned and flew away and the moment was broken, and she went back to the other side of the room, warming herself by the fire.

There was still no sign of Darcy.

She returned to her own room, and to her astonishment, she found him standing on the hearthrug. She had not heard his footsteps in the corridor, but her surprise quickly gave way to a sense of anticipation. He had come to her after all. She went closer and she felt the tension in him, as though he was trying to hold back some great force by sheer strength of will. She shivered, but not with cold. She could hear his shallow, uneven breathing, and he leaned towards her…

…and then she saw his hands clench as if he had fought an inner battle and emerged in some way victorious, but as if the victory had brought him no pleasure and had cost him dear. He kissed her gently on the cheek, the faintest brush of his lips, and said, ‘Good night, Elizabeth,’ Then, going into his own room, he shut the door.

She could still feel the warmth of his lips on her skin, and she raised her hand to them in an effort to hold the feeling. But gradually it faded, until there was nothing left of it.

She shivered, and looking round, she noticed that the window in her room too was open. She went to shut it, then she climbed into bed. She lay awake for a long time before she at last she fell asleep.


***

The morning sunlight streaming through a crack in the shutters woke her. She was confused for a moment, not recognising the room, then she remembered that she was in the Alps and she jumped out of bed. She threw back the shutters to see that the sky was a startling blue and that the mountains were rising majestically against it.

Her eyes wandered downwards, to the meadows and wildflowers that surrounded the taverna, and then to the still and placid lake. When she looked more closely, she could see that someone was swimming there. Her heart leapt as she saw that it was Darcy. She longed to join him, and although she thought, to begin with, that she could not possibly do any such thing, she soon changed her mind and thought, Why not?

She slipped into a chemise and gown, then picked up a towel and went softly downstairs. There were the usual early morning sounds coming from the back of the taverna, the sizzle of cooking and the thunk of wood being chopped, but in the front of the taverna it was silent. It was still very early and the other guests were in bed.

Elizabeth slipped outside unnoticed and felt the crispness of the air, then she felt the warming of the sun as she stepped out of the shadow and began to run across the meadow. As she sped over the carpet of wildflowers she crushed them beneath her feet, releasing their scent. It rose in a cloud around her, sweet and heady. At last she came to a stop, breathless but exhilarated, by the side of the lake. It was the deepest blue she had ever seen and as smooth as glass. It reflected the mountains and the tall pine trees that surrounded it without so much as a ripple to break the surface.

She set her towel down by the side of the water and then dipped a toe into the lake. It was very cold, but by and by, her foot became used to it and she began to find it refreshing. She put her foot further into the water, first her ankle and then her calf, and then she was seized with a sudden longing to be swimming. She unhooked her dress and pulled it over her head and was about to slip into the lake in her chemise when Mrs Cedarbrook’s words came back to her: tempt him. She hesitated for a moment, but there was no one about, nor was there likely to be so early in the morning, so she slipped out of her chemise as well and slid into the water.

She gasped as the cold liquid closed around her and struck out for the end of the lake. Gradually the movement began to warm her. She looked for Darcy and saw his head rising above the surface. She began to close the gap between them. As she drew closer she saw that his hair was wet, lying dark and sleek against his head, with rivulets of water running down his neck, over two small scars and onto his shoulders. She felt suddenly nervous, but it was too late to turn back. He had seen her. A look of surprise and delight crossed his face and then his eyes, at first joyful, darkened as his face flooded with desire. He closed the gap between them in a few strokes, his eyes roaming over her face and hair, and then down to her throat which rose, naked, above the water.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he murmured as he bent his head towards her. ‘You are intoxicating, ravishing, exquisite.’

She felt herself growing weak with need, drowning in the overwhelming force of his desire. Her skin yearned for him and her body leaned towards him. She felt as though they were not two separate beings but halves of the same whole, which had been long sundered and longed to be joined. He put his hands on her shoulders and her body grew heavy and languorous. He bent his head to kiss her and she felt his breath whisper over her neck like warm silk. She turned her head to expose her throat as her senses were consumed by him, mesmerised by his breathing and the hypnotic beating of his heart.

And then, like a sleepwalker awakened, she heard the wheels of a carriage as it pulled to a halt by the side of the lake. She heard the opening and closing of a carriage door and then a voice which was at once familiar and unfamiliar. Darcy lifted his head and Elizabeth, turning slowly, saw the figure of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Beside her, pale and bloodless, was her daughter, Anne.

Elizabeth thought she must be dreaming. The swim in the lake, Darcy’s touch, her heavy languor, together with the strange and unsettling appearance of Lady Catherine and her daughter, all had the quality of something unreal. Lady Catherine seemed to be insubstantial and ghostly in the strong sunlight.

But as Elizabeth’s senses began to return to normal, she realised that it was not a dream, that she was awake, and that everything was happening.

Darcy pulled her behind him and she was glad of his protection because there was something menacing about Lady Catherine. At Rosings she had been dictatorial, at Longbourn she had been ridiculous, but here she was frightening.

She was dressed all in black. Her long black cloak hung heavily around her and a black veil hung from her black bonnet, covering her face. She was leaning on a black parasol, which she used like a walking stick.

‘How did she find us?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘We made no secret of our journey or our destination,’ said Darcy. ‘If she was in Paris, she had only to ask my relatives where I was and they would tell her.’

Lady Catherine took a menacing step forward.

‘So, you have done it. Against all advice, you have married this—person. I never thought to see the day when you would do something so stupid, you of all people, Fitzwilliam,’ said Lady Catherine.

‘You knew I was going to marry her,’ said Darcy inimically.

‘I knew you intended to marry her, but I thought you would come to your senses in time. I told you that she would be rejected by the family, or worse—you have been to Paris, you know that I am right. But you went ahead and married her anyway.’

‘I have a right to my own life,’ he said.

‘You have no rights! Marriage is a family matter. It is for those who are older and wiser than you to make the decision. It is not for you to indulge a whim.’

‘It is too late to complain now,’ said Darcy in a warning voice. ‘We are married; it is done.’

‘Aye, you are married,’ said Lady Catherine malignantly. ‘You did it behind my back, when I was out of the country. I should not have left, and I would not have done so if I had thought you would go through with this scandalous act.’

‘You should not have come here. Darcy and I are happy,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You tried once before to separate us and you failed. You should know by now that it cannot be done. Who are you to decide what we can and cannot do? It is time for you to accept it and leave us alone.’

Lady Catherine turned malignant eyes on her and Elizabeth felt afraid.

‘Be silent!’ she hissed.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

‘You should have married Anne,’ said Lady Catherine, turning once more to Darcy. ‘Anne is your mate. She is the one you were meant to marry. She is from an old and honourable family. She is the one who will keep the blood lines pure.’