The Darcys and Lord Byron in Venice – Part 4

The Darcys’ eldest boy, Charles, was old enough, at five, for some alphabet lessons, and Elizabeth had used her scissors to cut out letters of paper, which were now spread over the table. Charles and Jane, a year younger, were playing with them, not learning very seriously, while the baby, Fitzwilliam gurgled in a basket by Lizzy’s knee. Darcy could be forgiven for thinking that they made a pretty picture together, as he enjoyed his morning chocolate and rolls, and the Italian newspapers.

They had just learnt to sing the alphabet song.  “But, Mamma, is it the same in Italian?” Charles inquired. Elizabeth was admiring the intelligence of the child’s question, and thinking how to answer him, when they were interrupted. The little English maid, Sally, came into the morning-room, dropped a curtsey, and announced, “If you please, mum – sir – there is a Captain and Mrs. Warren come to see you.”

Darcy’s eyebrows rose. “English people? But we do not know anyone by that name here.”

“Yes, sir, to be sure they are English, and they did say as they are connections of the family.”

Darcy stood up. “What rubbish. They must be imposters. Never mind, Sally, I shall go and deal with them. My dear, remain with the children, I will not be long.”

But there was no necessity for him to leave the room, for the new arrivals blithely walked in, not waiting for an invitation or introduction. There was no need for the latter, at least, for they were Elizabeth’s sister Lydia, and her reprobate husband, Mr. Wickham.

Elizabeth barely had time to exclaim with surprise, “Why, it is Lydia!” but Lydia did not wait for more. She rushed, squealing, to throw her arms around her sister.

“Dearest, dearest Lizzy!” she cried. “I knew you would be delighted to see us. Is it not a good joke? Are you not surprised? I’ll wager you did not even know we were in Italy!”

“I am surprised,” Elizabeth replied, “but it does not follow that I am delighted. What has happened, Lydia? Tell me at once.”

Darcy was staring with extreme distaste and disapproval at Wickham. “What is the meaning of this? Wickham, you cannot conceive yourself to be welcome here. And intruding under a false name is despicable practice, I must say.”

Wickham was as unembarrassed, and as charming in his manner as ever. “Pray do forgive the intrusion, Darcy,” he said with an ingratiating laugh. “I assure you we do not wish to presume on your good nature, and we will be on our way shortly. We only thought, as we found ourselves here in Venice, that Mrs. Darcy would not dislike seeing her sister.”

“I am sure I do love seeing you, darling Lizzy!” enthused Lydia. “And your children – oh! I have never seen them at all, before, you know.  The beautiful things!  How they do make me miss my own three!” And she dabbed dramatically at her eyes with a rather dirty handkerchief.

“But where are your children?” asked Elizabeth, bewildered. “Have you left them in England? How on earth came you here – and why?”

“May I tell them, Wickham?”

“To be sure,” he replied, and gracefully settled himself on a Venetian settee, painted with elegant figures in Chinoiserie, that he did not scruple to admire and run his fingers over. He looked up with equal admiration at the ornate Venetian chandelier above him.

Lydia, unasked, plumped herself down on an embroidered chair, and hitched herself forward, eager to spill out her story. “Well, you must know, Lizzy, we have come to Italy to retrench! Is that not wise of us? Did you expect such discretion, and prudence, and all that, from me and Wickham? I am sure you must approve.”

“I am glad you mean to be prudent, Lydia,” replied Lizzy, glancing at Wickham, who was still gazing around at the opulently furnished room with open pleasure.

“To be sure, we do. You must know it is perfectly impossible to live on a half-pay military stipend, at least we could not, and things got too hot for us. I mean to say, those creditors are simply dreadful, you would think they could wait a bit for their money, which of course we would pay sooner or later. But they have no politeness at all.” She brought her handkerchief to her eyes again. “So unkind they were to Wickham! There was nothing to do but leave England entirely.”

“But with what?” Darcy inquired. “Have you left the regiment, Wickham? What about your commission, which I purchased for you?”

“Oh, Wickham sold it,” said Lydia. “Was that not clever? We should never have been able to travel to Italy, otherwise. And we have been on the way for weeks now, and how miserably uncomfortable all this traveling is, to be sure! Fleas in the public carriages! Sleeping on the floor in inns! And the food – oh! It is all oil. I positively cannot keep it down.”

“That may be for another reason,” Wickham contributed, sotto voce.

“Yes, I believe I have started our fourth,” nodded Lydia, “but that’s neither here nor there.”

“Heaven on earth!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “But Lydia – what is your plan? Where do you mean to go from here? Will you settle in Italy? It is indeed cheaper to live on the Continent, but what about your children?”

Lydia opened her eyes wide. “Why, I thought you understood. We have no money left, we used the very last bit to get here, and in fact I had to sell my bracelet. The one with the turquoises, that Wickham won gaming, on our honey-moon. I am sorry to lose that.”

“But what did you look to, or expect, Lydia, if you have no money left at all?”

“Why, we knew, of course, that you were here, and surely to goodness we could count on my own sister to help us! In this emergency, and with me expecting – why, what else could we do?”

There was a horrid silence as the Darcys absorbed the information. Darcy was silent, but after some time, Lizzy spoke.

“We cannot turn them out in the street, Darcy,” she said quietly.

He considered. “They may remain a few days. It is not of much importance, as we are leaving Venice ourselves so soon. Wickham, however, must stay elsewhere.”

“Thank you, my dear,” said Elizabeth softly, and turned to her sister. “Now, Lydia, please tell me: where have you left your children?”

“Oh, we left them at Longbourn,” explained Lydia, “on our way to take passage at Dover. “Mamma never minds seeing her grandchildren, and Mary has nothing to do but look after them. I imagine she will teach them to read, as I see your children are learning their letteres. Little loves!  I am sure that by this time ours are as forward in their learning as yours are.” She sighed sentimentally.

Darcy exchanged a glance with Elizabeth, and made up his mind. “You cannot live in Italy, without your children,” he said firmly. “We will pay for your passage home, and you shall remain at Longbourn while it is decided what can be done with Wickham. If he has left the military and is truly penniless, there are not many possibilities open for him.”

“I am sure, with your connections, you can find him a position,” pleaded Lydia, “maybe not at Court, or as a clergyman, as we once thought in our best days, but surely he can get something smart, in London. You can see what a well looking man he still is, and would adorn any great household.”

Darcy said nothing, only shook his head, disturbed, while Wickham tactfully remained silent, studying the onyx statue of a blackamoor.

“Lydia, you must understand that we are only here for a few more days,” said Elizabeth earnestly. “We are starting our journey back home to England at the end of the week, and stay only for Carnival, tonight. Tomorrow will see us packing.”

“Perhaps we may ride in your carriage,” suggested Wickham, with a friendly smile. “We will not be in your way, and can be helpful to you, along the journey.”

It was so pleasantly spoken, that if Wickham had been what he should be, the suggestion could only have been met with gratitude.  Darcy only looked grimmer, if possible, and said, through tight lips, “We travel with two carriages, one for the servants. You may have seats in the second carriage.”

Lydia was about to protest, but Wickham shook his head slightly at her and graciously accepted the offer. He knew how valuable it was, and that they were fortunate to have the promise, in whatever conveyance.  Lydia’s mind, however, quickly jumped to another subject.

“You are going to Carnival – tonight?” she exclaimed. “A ball! I have heard of that. It is a real, masked ball, is it not?”

“Yes, at La Teatro de la Fenice,” Lizzy answered.

Lydia clasped her hands together. “Oh! May we go – Wickham and I?  I die to see a real masked ball!  We can, cannot we? Wickham still has his uniform, and I know you will lend me a dress, won’t you, Lizzy?”

“Well – “

“And Lord Byron!  We heard he was here. He will be at the ball, will he not? Will you introduce us?”

“No, that we will not do,” put in Darcy. “We have preferred not to have acquaintance with him.”

“Gracious! Why ever not? But still, we come with you to the ball, may we not? Please say yes! You are so kind. We will be so happy!”

“I daresay,” said Darcy, pulling the velvet cord, and when the footman came, he said, “Frederick, will you please arrange a bed in your quarters for Mr. Wickham. He and his wife will be staying here until we depart for England.”

“Lydia can have the little room next to Sally’s,” said Elizabeth.

“I should like to meet Lord Byron,” said Wickham meditatively. “He might do something for me. Do you think he would need an amanuensis?”

“I know I shall not ask him,” said Darcy curtly. “I have refrained from speaking out, lest it embarrass our wives, Wickham, but you cannot expect the acquaintance of any of our friends and connexions. You seem to forget that you have behaved immorally. Your commission was not yours to trade away, or gamble with; it was provided for the living of yourself and your family. You are not to be trusted. I cannot abandon my wife’s sister in these circumstances, but you must know how we stand.”

Wickham said nothing, only smoothed his little mustache. After a moment of silence, Darcy withdrew to his study, so as not to have to be exposed to Wickham for any longer than strictly necessary, while the others sat down to a light repast of cold smoked meats and cheeses, fig jam and bread, in the Italian fashion. Soon after, the nursemaid took the children to play in the gardens, while Elizabeth rather reluctantly ushered her sister into her own chamber, to find her something to wear for the ball.

“Oh!  How elegant,” enthused Lydia, gazing at the high frescoed ceiling, the beautiful painting-like views out over the canal, and at the carved wooden four-poster bed with its exquisite tapestry hangings. “Really, you do live like a queen in a palace!”

“All the houses along the Grand Canal are called palazzi. They are just grand houses, really, and visitors can rent rooms in them. That is what we have done,” explained Elizabeth, as Sally and an Italian lady’s maid came forward and opened the large oaken wardrobe.

Even Lydia was silenced by the gowns she saw, with their delicate shimmering fabrics. “Which can you possibly choose?” she gasped, overcome. “And what shall I wear?”

“Well – “ said Elizabeth, putting her hand on a pretty figured white and gold satin gown with a unique keyhole pattern, “I thought I would wear this. We have a selection of masks, as well, and I thought this white one would look well with the gown, and this fan.” 

“Indeed it does!” breathed Lydia. “And what about me? You are smaller than I am. Your gowns will not fit me, and me in the family way, though I’m not so far gone as all that.”

“Here are some long and loose robes that might do. This red velvet would be comfortable, and not require corseting.”

“Oh, certainly not, I would look like a strumpet in that, I know. I want to wear white, too!”

“I’m not sure I have a white gown that would fit you,” Elizabeth considered. The Italian maid rummaged in the wardrobe. “Here is one, if it please you, madam,” she said to Elizabeth.

“Why, yes, thank you, Violetta. This muslin is loose and flowing, not too snug, and it has gold trimming too, rather like my gown.”

Lydia’s eyes shone. “Yes, I will look very well in that,” she agreed, “perhaps with this gold bandeau of yours in my hair – and gold slippers – and a white mask, and high feathers – I must have high feathers. Only think! Perhaps Lord Byron himself will dance with me!  Oh! Do you think he will?”