The Trouble with Mr. Darcy Read online

  “Go. Bye,” was his answer, adding an enthusiastic bounce.

  “We shall see very high mountains in a few days, sweetling.” Darcy pulled his son onto his lap, nuzzling the soft neck. “When you spy them you will be amazed! Your Great-Aunt Mary has a lovely chateau at the base of the Alps. We shall have enormous fun.”

  The Swiss estate owned by Baron Oeggl sat on the easternmost bank of Lake Genève in Switzerland near Villeneuve. Darcy had visited his Aunt Mary and her family twice in his adult life, but on both occasions he traveled to their home north of Vienna in Austria, never venturing close to the Alps. Of course, one could see the towering, perpetually snow-clad mountains from many portions of Austria and Switzerland, but the dramatic effect was lost with distance. Thus his eagerness was equally distributed between visiting family and touring the countryside.

  George’s thoughts on this portion of their trip were vastly different.

  Cold weather was not a friend to the man who had dwelt in India for the greater part of his life. He had anticipated his robust Englishman’s blood reasserting itself, thickening as it were, to tolerate the cooler climes of England. Certainly he had never been bothered by the chill when a youth and young man, and his transition to the heat and humidity of India had been fairly easy. Perhaps it is old age, he mused with chagrin. Naturally he was stubborn about it, continuing to don his preferred warm weather garments while dramatically whining about the freezing air until everyone assumed he was exaggerating. Therefore it was with surprise all around when Dr. Darcy launched into a spending frenzy in the weeks before departing England that was equally as involved as the females. He had numerous appointments with Darcy’s tailor—something else to grumble about—with a dozen thick wool suits, three overcoats, hats, sturdy boots, and woolen stockings the result! All were of the finest cut and modern style, but sported something daring or dashing about them. He was still flamboyant George, after all, and thus enjoyed the taunts received.

  The temperature in Paris proved to be a bit warmer than London in March. This offered him the chance to wear the elaborate sherwanis brought along for formal events just in case, the exotic effect better than usual among strangers not immune to his charms. However, the idea of Switzerland any time of the year gave him shudders. It was not the main reason he had never visited his eldest sister, but his reluctance to trudge through snow did weigh in there to a degree.

  “When did you last see your sister, George?” Lizzy asked one day as they were preparing for their holiday.

  “When I was at Cambridge, two years and a bit before I completed my apprenticeship, she and her family traveled to Pemberley. I took a hiatus and spent a month at home before I needed to return.”

  “And that was the last time?” Georgiana asked, turning from the trunk on the floor to stare at her uncle.

  “Do not be so incredulous, Georgie. I am not a horrid brother, not really. You must remember that Mary is eleven years older than me. We were never very close, partly due to the age difference but also because Mary was unlike the rest of us.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “She was serious and prim, more like our father, whereas Estella, James, Alex, and I were like our mother. Carefree and adventurous. Or hellions, depending on the perspective. That was Father’s perspective to be sure. I swear the man never cracked a smile in all my growing up days.”

  “He smiled often with me,” Darcy interjected. “Must have been the hellions driving him to a state of utter annoyance.”

  George agreed with a hearty laugh. “Oh indeed! I am sure that was part of it! Of course, Aunt Beryl will tell you how stoic he was even as a child. I have gleaned that she and a couple of their siblings began the tortures in his youth, long before we arrived. And I do not wish to give the impression that he was harsh or unloving. Quite the contrary! He was a wonderful father, affectionate in his way, and devoted to his family and Pemberley. But he was also strict, reserved, highly disciplined, and frankly humorless. However, James did often write how altered Father was in his later years. Time mellows people, I imagine.” He sighed, somber for a moment while remembering his father, with regret that they had seen so little of each other during the final years of his life. “I rather hope this is true of Mary, although it will be delightful to see her again no matter. It has been far too long.”

  “William speaks fondly of her,” Georgiana broke into the silence, “so I think you will be surprised.”

  “Not to dampen what I am certain will be a wonderful reunion, but as pleasant as I have found Aunt Mary to be, it would be erroneous to intimate that she has evolved into a woman as gregarious and warm as Aunt Estella or you, Uncle. I have seen her smile and laugh, but will admit it is a rarity.” Darcy shrugged. “I admire her restraint. She is extremely intelligent and talented in numerous ways. Conversation was never boring.”

  George nodded. “Yes, that sounds like my sister. Not overly demonstrative but intriguing and admirable in her accomplishments. Ah, it will be great to see her!”

  “You must have missed her all these years,” Lizzy murmured sympathetically.

  “I suppose I did, although it has not registered until recent years. I too have mellowed with age.” Darcy grunted at that, but George went on, “We have written to each other, but not with great frequency I am ashamed to say. Numerous reasons for that, not the least of which was the difficulty in finding me. And my busy life did not allow for regular corresponding. Traveling home was arduous, hence my visiting Pemberley so rarely, William. Diverting to Austria was simply not an easy option. Of course, under different circumstances I would have found a way, but as I said, Mary and I were not close.”

  His smile was soft and slightly melancholy, but the low chuckle was devilish. He continued, “While growing up Mary could not tolerate any of us. This was a well-established fact between her and James and Estella before Alex and I were old enough to appreciate the emotion. By then we were part of the group and one of our greatest joys in life was to torture poor Mary.” He laughed, shaking his head in remembrance. “We truly were awful brats about it. No wonder she married a man who would take her thousands of miles away!”

  “Do you think so?” Georgiana asked, brows lifting in amazement.

  “Well, probably not. I cannot be sure, as I was too young to be aware of such intrigues as love and romance. I saved that mockery for James,” he grinned. “No, she met Baron Oeggl through the Vernors. There is some family connection, quite distant, and he was visiting during a tour of England. We go abroad and the Europeans come here. Interesting, is it not? Massive bear of a man, he was.”

  “He still is,” Darcy interrupted, “or was last I saw him. Old and gray, but ‘bear’ is an apt description.”

  “Apparently it was love at first sight and all that rot, although Mary was twenty and the Baron over thirty. Father was less than thrilled with the notion, but hearts prevail. Before the year was out they were wed and gone. We were eleven,” he reminisced, reverting to the long lost custom of speaking plurally with his twin, “so the party was more exciting to us than all the romantic falderal. Now I am older, a tiny bit wiser, and can regret that Mary and I were not closer. Yes, it will be lovely to see her again and meet my nieces and nephews.”

  The roads in France, especially those closest to Paris, were well maintained and broad to accommodate heavier traffic. The rural roads they were obligated to take were not always as smooth with holes and residual muddy areas remaining from the winter rains adding to the places left damaged from the wars. Caution was necessary to avoid serious mishaps and twice they were diverted due to construction, the detour avenues inevitably worse, so the pace was slow. Then, of course, there were the higher elevations and steep hills to climb once in Switzerland that slowed the horses to a crawl and required frequent rests.

  Their armed guards rode alongside, searching the horizon and passing terrain for odd disturbances or ambush possibilities. Fate smiled upon them and nothing happened in that regard.

&
nbsp; Nothing horrid happened but some troubles were bound to occur. One horse lost a shoe, causing a period of anxiety as they were ascending a sharp rise at the time, but a hamlet nestled in the narrow valley beyond, providing shelter and a smith to replace the horseshoe. Upsets to scheduled nightly halts with hosts or at quality hotels were inevitable, and two times they were forced to lodge at dubious inns, all of them thankful to have packed their own bed linens and silver necessaire for dining.

  For two nights they rested at a luxurious hostelry in Geneva, the recuperation needed by all. Lizzy felt nothing beyond the typical weariness of hours in a carriage and unfamiliar housing. She experienced some nausea from time to time, but they all did with the constant swaying and pitching. Darcy worried, but not overly since it was clear that any discomfort she felt was readily erased with a brisk walk on firm ground and a full night of sleep.

  The older members suffered various aches and disturbances in their sleep, the younger members tended to suffer most from boredom, but Alexander took it all in stride. He fell asleep whenever the need struck him—soft bed, warm arms, or padded carriage bench made no difference—ate well of whatever was placed in front of him, rarely complained, stared at the passing landscape with rapt fascination, or played contentedly with his toys. It was truly remarkable, a fact the more experienced parents on the trip pointed out with increasing wonder.

  The countryside teemed with life as spring took a solid hold. Farmers were busy, the rich aroma of freshly tilled earth and manure a constant, as were the fragrances from new blooms. Birds chirped a musical background to the rolling thud of wheels, and the laughter of playing children often greeted them as they passed through villages. The weather held, except for one rainstorm requiring they waylay for an unexpected night in Dijon, but that served to lighten the air and please the flora and fauna.

  Yet despite the fun of adventure, after two weeks of exhausting travel, they were universally relieved to reach their destination. Their caravan of carriages entered the wide gates leading to the three-story, sprawling wooden farmhouse of Freiherr and Freifrau von Oeggl, to use their Austrian titles. Baron Oeggl stood on the topmost step leading to the open doors of the massive house constructed of thick oak beams and logs, his shape visible from afar and oddly dwarfing the house. He was indeed a “big bear of a man” and if not for the sunny smile creasing his lined face, it might have been frightening to have such an enormous stranger bounding down the steps. For a moment Lizzy thought he was going to bowl them over or enfold them in a welcoming embrace with arms the size of young trees crushing the air from their lungs, and felt a wave of relief when he halted before doing either. But her startlement lasted only a minute, even with the booming voice that sent tremors into her bones, as the greeting was amiable and sincere, if a bit difficult to understand due to thickly accented English. When Lady Matlock responded in German, the Baron’s smile grew bigger and the subsequent minutes gave Lizzy a chance to examine their host.

  He was tall, of course, but not as tall as George or Darcy. Rather, his bulk was in the broadness of his shoulders and sheer muscle mass. Some of that muscle had evolved into fat over time, the Baron well into his eighties, but he was still a powerfully built man. He sported a bushy white beard to match the silvery-white hair slicked back from his face and worn long, to tie into a tail hanging midway down his back. Alexander’s fascination with his flowing hair and coarse beard would be a running joke and memory to highlight the trip. His elderly face was handsome with grayish-green eyes under thick brows, Lizzy easily able to imagine how stunning he must have been when young. No wonder George’s sister had fallen instantly in love with him.

  That thought caused her to glance around, but no one matching the descriptions of Mary Darcy stood amongst the crowd of a dozen souls, adult and child, who milled about offering greetings. More people flooded out of the house, apparently the entire Oeggl clan spending the spring to summer season in Switzerland. In time she would discover that this was nearly the truth, but for now they were ushered into the house amid great fanfare and a cacophony of German and English voices.

  The Baroness was waiting in the parlor, sitting on a large, leather- and fur-lined chair beside the fire, and no one needed to question why. Mary was obviously not a well woman. In contrast to the robust Baron she could have been mistaken for his mother rather than a wife ten years younger. The tragedy of her illness created a minor pall over the visit, although the extensive family prevented too much sadness from prevailing. George brought every ounce of his medical expertise to bear but in the end could not change the inevitable. Instead he settled for quiet fellowship with his sister, spending the majority of his time talking with her about their childhood and catching up on the lost years.

  Lizzy never warmed to Darcy’s aunt. She was not unkind or rude in any way, but extremely priggish and humorless. Her austere demeanor was intimidating, Lizzy preferring to interact with the children and grandchildren, who seemed to largely possess Baron Oeggl’s effervescent personality.

  In the end it did not matter. The wealth of activities both outside in the lovely weather and inside the vast house kept all of them busy. The month passed quickly with endless entertainments to be had. Alexander had few opportunities to use his newfound walking skills since some cousin was usually holding him and the abundance of children meant playing from sunrise to sunset. Darcy fulfilled his dream of climbing the Alps, or rather the lowest pinnacle, in a two-day jaunt up the closest summit with several male kinsman. Not George, of course, he refusing to go anywhere near the snow or pretending for a second that the higher temperatures were adequate enough to please him!

  The gigantic house included a well-stocked armory so hunting was a frequent occupation, Baron Oeggl tirelessly stalking miles along with the younger men for the plentiful game roaming the foothills, and fresh meat appeared at nearly every meal. The game room included a billiard table, Darcy’s smile beatific upon spying it, and every last male relative felt the sting of defeat ere they left. George joined in for some of the manly exploits but preferred to stay with his sister. That also meant he was often the only male present in a house of females and children, a position he gladly accepted. The children thought their new uncle a treasure, the constant clamoring for his undivided attention provoking a jealous streak in Alexander, who made sure everyone knew this was his Uncle Goj!

  CHAPTER TWO

  In the Shadow of the Alps

  Crossing the Alps into Italy was never an easy endeavor, although it was undertaken with enough regularity to organize properly. Five of the Oeggl grandchildren, young adults all, as well as the eldest son and heir to the barony, Herr Jens Oeggl, and his wife, Anita, had decided to join the caravan as soon as they learned of Lord and Lady Matlock’s plan to take Miss Darcy on a grand tour. All the arrangements were made, including connecting with several other friends who wished to travel and, as expected, the locals in Switzerland were stocked with every supply needed. A larger company moving together was the safest plan, Darcy immeasurably relieved and thankful to learn of the family’s inclusion.

  “Tours across Europe are popular for the Darcy kinsmen this year.” It was twilight on May twenty and the main parlor, stretching across the rear of the house with a panoramic view of Lake Genève, was packed with adults lounging about in that hazy place of contentment after a day replete with activity and a sumptuous dinner. Baroness Oeggl’s murmured statement was easily audible to all since most were reading, silently playing games, or staring at the scenery.

  “Yes,” Darcy responded first, laying his book aside and attending to his aunt, “we are a platoon-sized force blazing across the continent. Somewhat ostentatious at times.”

  The corners of her mouth lifted slightly at his joke. “Oh yes, I recall the feelings of pretension when traveling in the past. Our recent journey from Vienna was a formidable host, more of a battalion with all of us.” She swept her eyes over the loungers, most of who were listening to the exchange with smiles on their face
s. “However, I was not only referring to those currently residing here. Your cousin Maria and her husband are in Russia, of all the outlandish places to visit.”

  “I think Russia would be a fascinating place to tour. It is an ancient culture with architecture found nowhere else.”

  Lizzy’s zealous interruption was met with a faint frown, the Baroness continuing as if she had not spoken, “Freiherr Oeggl’s youngest brother and family are already in Italy, since last fall, and currently the Marchioness of Warrow is dwelling at our house in Vienna.”

  “Aunt Beryl is in Vienna?” George blurted.

  “Lady Warrow,” Mary corrected primly, “is accompanying her grandson, Mr. Butler, while he studies music in Vienna.”

  Darcy looked toward his wife. “I believe he mentioned his plans to tour abroad when we met him last year, did he not Elizabeth?”

  “He did. I was not sure of details in his plans, however. Did he speak of it to you, Georgiana?”

  “We conversed for a few minutes only and then about the pieces he wrote. I know nothing of his private matters, but I am not surprised. If the compositions played for us are an indication of his talent, then it is sensible to further his study. He plans to tour Italy, I assume?”

  “Not as yet. My understanding is that he hopes to be a student at the Paris Conservatoire de Musique…”

  “Oh!” Georgiana blushed at her interruption but could not hide her animation. “How extraordinary! For a foreigner to be admitted is an incredible honor. Mr. Butler surely possesses a talent vastly exceeding my impression if he has such expectations. How extraordinary,” she repeated, face dreamy as she lapsed into silence.

  “He does play beautifully,” Mary resumed, “and with my knowledge of music I can assert he is prodigiously skilled. I am sure in time he will comprehend the importance of visiting Italy to study opera where it originated and reigns supreme.”

  “If he is as precious to the musical world as it appears then hopefully he will sail to Italy rather than risk his magical fingers or genius brain to the rigors of crossing the mountains!”