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“What?” yelled Bingley, cupping his ear.

“Get A Blan-Ket!”

Bingley was still leaning towards him with his face screwed up when Darcy heard one of the sailors shout, “Deken!” in comprehension. By the time he and Caroline reached the ladder at the stern of the ship, the blanket had arrived.

“Bingley,” Darcy said, “you and Louisa will have to hold the blanket up so Caroline can climb aboard.”

“Certainly, we’ll wrap her well to dry her off, Darcy! No worries about that!”

“No, Bingley. Caroline is very wet. You will have to hold the blanket up to preserve her modesty.”

“Aaaaah!” said Bingley, finally comprehending.

Despite Darcy’s warning, Bingley got an eyeful as his sister climbed back aboard, later confiding it was more of Caroline than he had ever wanted to see.

When Darcy hauled himself up the ladder, his sodden breeches weighing him down, Finn was waiting with another blanket and his banyan. From his position on a deck chair beside Mr Trevor and Crimplesham in the bows, his valet had been apprised of the drama off the stern by all the sailors running about hallooing to each other in Dutch.

Although Darcy was shivering, his left nipple was burning from a twist it had received as he helped Caroline aboard. He was fairly sure Miss Bingley had tweaked it quite deliberately, but if she thought he had got any enjoyment out of it, she was quite wrong. He was disgusted and repulsed by her forwardness.

Chapter 21: Obsessions

Despite escorting Darcy below deck in quick time, divesting him immediately of his wet clothes, and bundling him into bed with a hot water bottle, his valet was unable to prevent his master from succumbing to a sick cold. Ordinarily this would not have been a cause of great concern, for Darcy’s constitution was strong. But Finn had heard of Englishmen dying of trifling ailments when abroad and was not leaving anything to chance.

By the time they reached Stuttgart, two days after his paddle in the river, Darcy was in the full throes of his miserable cold, and Finn told Mr Trevor that his master was in no way ready to make the carriage journey to Ulm. Finn’s only consolation was that Miss Bingley was apparently even more violently ill. Her sneezes could be heard through the walls of Darcy’s cabin.

As their boat, the Aachen, had already been commissioned some months ago for a short voyage along the upper Rhine between Mannheim and Strasbourg over the next ten days, they were obliged to disembark immediately to seek lodgings in the town. But, for a small retainer, the captain offered to return to Stuttgart in a fortnight to carry them on their return journey to Rotterdam—an engagement that Bingley and Hurst were pleased to make on the party’s behalf.

After finding suitable accommodations in Stuttgart just off the Schlossplatz, Mr Trevor hired a horse to ride to Ulm so that he might arrange another ship for their journey down the Danube. He left the convalescents in Mr Finn’s charge, with the understanding that they should follow in the carriages he had hired as soon as they were able.

By the fourth day after his refreshing dip, Darcy was well on his way to recovery. On contemplating emerging from the sickroom, Finn disclosed that Bingley and Hurst were spending their days in the local beer halls, a pastime Darcy had no wish to join. He decided to work on his proof in his room. He would rather not risk finding himself alone with the predacious Caroline.

As for Miss Bingley, she was making everyone in the inn aware of her presence with incessant demands on the staff. A requested posset, found to be unsatisfactory, was thrown at a chambermaid’s head, shattering the Dresden china cup. Louisa was sent to the kitchens to supervise preparation of a better brew. More coal was hauled up to Miss Bingley’s room when it was deemed too chilly. Then the room was judged to be positively steamy, and a footman was required to stand at the door with a fan to disperse the heat. Finally, when a harassed chambermaid was rude to her, Caroline informed her brother that she refused to give the proprietors her custom any longer, demanding they depart on the instant. Satisfied that Darcy was ready to travel, Mr Finn quietly apologised to the inn owner, called for the carriages, and paid their shot.

When the hired vehicles duly arrived, Darcy’s party emerged from the inn to find a smart light travelling carriage awaiting them. Pulled up behind it was an old-fashioned fourgon for the servants, onto which the luggage was being loaded.

“Well!” exclaimed Louisa. “After the disasters with the first boat and now this inn, at least Mr Trevor has hired a decent carriage! But where are the post-boys?”

“Apparently, they do not use post-boys for carriages here, Mrs Hurst,” replied Darcy, “but a single coachman, similar to private carriages.”

“No post-boys?” replied Hurst. “Damned strange! How on earth do the horses get back to their original owners?”

“I believe one transfers carriages at the end of each stage rather than change horses.”

The two-day trip to Ulm was uncomfortable, despite the luxurious vehicle Mr Trevor had procured. From her position on the right side of the forward-facing seat, Caroline alternately threw simpering glances at Darcy, seated diagonally opposite her on the backward-facing seat beside Charles, before sneezing behind her fan at her sister Louisa, who was seated beside her. The only mercy was that Caroline’s sore throat kept her quiet.

They arrived in Ulm to find Mr Trevor supervising the provisioning of the new vessel called the Baden. They were thus able to retire immediately to their new cabins to recover from their journey. Darcy had had enough of Caroline. After drawing Bingley aside, he ensured that Charles was safely installed in the cabin between himself and Miss Bingley. The vessel turned out to be even more luxurious than the Aachen, decorated very much in the grand style. Upon enquiry, Mr Trevor revealed that it also belonged to the Bavarian royal family, but to the queen, Caroline of Baden, rather than the prince, as indicated by its name.

Heavy rain set in during the evening, just after the ship set off for Ingolstadt. In the morning, it was still too wet to spend any time on deck, so Darcy ensconced himself in a comfortable chair in his cabin and returned to pondering his proof, which had gone nowhere for the last few days. After several false starts, inspiration struck around midday and by the time Finn arrived with afternoon tea, including a slice of delicious jam-filled pie called Linzertorte, Darcy had filled several sheets of paper with incomprehensible scribblings. By dinner, Darcy’s feverish work had sapped his energy to such an extent that rather than join a game of loo afterwards, he retired, and the Bingleys elected to play a rubber of whist instead.

Returning to his cabin, Darcy decided to retire early so that he might be fresh to work on the proof in the morning. He fell asleep easily, but woke during the night, disturbed by another erotic dream. He dreamt of a lady seated in front of a large mirror in her petticoats, having her hair dressed by a maid. The boudoir was not a figment of his imagination but rather belonged to the Duchess of Wingham. As he approached the seated lady, he called out ‘Almeria’ to her in his customary way. But when the lady turned, he realised his error—sloe eyes regarded him. He saw her hair, which he had mistaken for auburn through some trick of the light, was chestnut. She was wearing that brown lace dress again, from the Netherfield ball. A tug of his heart, quickly transferred to his nether regions, pulled him forward.

“My Love! How good of you to visit me!” said Elizabeth, holding out her hand.

Darcy instantly recognised the words as Almeria’s, but instead of her husky tones, they were delivered in Miss Elizabeth’s pleasant chirruping voice, like a cheeky sparrow.

Darcy paused in confusion.

“So hesitant, my Love? Do you not have a kiss for me?” she teased.