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When his valet arrived with afternoon tea on the half-hour, he found Darcy collapsed on his arms over the desk. Alarmed at his posture, Finn promptly divested himself of the tray and started forward, but his master looked up in response to the clatter of china. Finn clutched his hand to his chest and reminded himself to breathe.
“Are you all right, sir?” he asked.
“Yes, Finn,” responded Darcy dully. “I merely realised that my work on the theorem has come to naught. I have gone down the same blind alley that I did years ago and have only just discovered it.”
“That is a shame, sir. But at least now you have time to eat something. The cook has made some more of the excellent roast beef sandwiches he provided for lunch in addition to a cake he has baked. I thought you might prefer something savoury.”
“Thank you, Finn.”
“If it is any consolation, sir, the captain says we should dock in Vienna within the hour,” said his valet, pouring the tea.
After setting the repast in front of his master, Finn looked at the discarded sheets of the proof. “Perhaps I could file this away for you, sir?”
“Throw it away, Finn,” said Darcy dispassionately. “I do not ever want to see it again.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
“Yes, Finn. Its presence offends me.”
Without further prompting, Finn stuffed the sheets of paper into the closed stove. “I suppose mathematicians are better self-editors than poets, sir; but it seems a shame for so much effort to be obliterated when doggerel is continually published.”
Darcy smiled. “Were you listening to Byron’s poetry last night, Finn? I promise you his subsequent work is better. History will edit the rest.”
“Yes, sir,” replied his valet, quietly relieved that the proof would not be disturbing any more of Darcy’s meals for the moment.
As promised, the ship soon docked in Vienna. Carriages were speedily hired, and the English party made their way to the very comfortable palais the princess had arranged for them. It was during this transfer that Darcy discovered that Louisa was the latest victim of a sick cold, probably acquired from Caroline via her maid. They soon arrived at the Király Palais, an impressive hotel in the city, which provided accommodations for foreign dignitaries when its Hungarian owners were not in residence. Conveyed to his rooms, Darcy found his suite to be enormous, with a high ceiling and double-height doors. A writing table near a window was graced with a bowl of hothouse roses and a card from the princess, inviting him to wait upon her as soon as he was able.
Thus, after a brief consultation, Darcy changed his cravat and set out to walk the short distance to the princess’s palais with Bingley and Mr Trevor. The nearby Linzer Palais turned out to be even more impressive than the building they had just left. After being shown to a waiting room, Darcy watched Mr Trevor bite his nails until the princess was finally announced. The doors were flung open and into the room walked the most impressive female Darcy had ever seen.
Chapter 22: Willkommen in Wien
After Princess Brunhilda von Wolfbach was announced, Darcy stood stock-still for a moment before recollecting himself. As he bowed, his mind furiously tried to adjust his world by suggesting that the footman accompanying her was a midget, but as he stepped forward to kiss her hand, he discarded this ridiculous notion. Straightening himself to his full height of six foot one, he found himself looking up into her eyes. Her portrait had not been inaccurate in terms of her beauty. If anything, it had not done her justice. Its inaccuracy lay in its failure to portray the princess’s scale. Darcy estimated her height to be six foot five. Her strong-jawed face was softened by honey blonde hair braided round her head. A pair of frank grey eyes observed him from between blonde lashes. Darcy decided she was beautiful, chiefly because the epithet of ‘pretty’ in no way described her. His mind, still playing tricks on him, imagined her wearing a helmet with wings.
“Guten Abend, Prinzessin,” said Darcy, recollecting himself. “Es ist mir eine außerordentliche Freude, Ihre Bekanntschaft zu machen. Wenn ich Ihnen meine Begleiter vorstellen dürfte: Mein Freund, Charles Bingley, und den Sekretär des Grafen Matlock, Herr Trevor.”[3]
Mr Trevor gave a neat bow while Bingley looked confused and pointed questioningly to himself. Darcy nodded and made a subtle movement with his hand to indicate that Charles should bow, which after a moment’s hesitation, he did.
The princess gave a graceful curtsey in return.
“Willkommen in Wien, Herr Darcy. As you English outnumber me, perhaps it would be easier if we spoke in your language?” she said, gesturing them towards a pair of gilt sofas facing each other near the hearth. “I hope you are finding your accommodations comfortable?”
Darcy blinked in surprise before moving to take his place on the sofa. He had been told that the princess spoke English, but he had not expected her to be so fluent.
“May I congratulate you on your English, Princess. It is excellent.”
“Thank you, Mr Darcy. My father lost his life and our hereditary lands in the war against Napoleon. So, my title is now an honorary one. As my uncle is a diplomat, he encouraged me to continue my education, hoping I might make a match amongst the ranks of diplomats. Nonetheless, much of the family’s wealth was saved, held in trust here in Vienna by my uncle. I hope your family will not be dissatisfied with the settlements.”
“I believe my uncle, the Earl of Matlock, is sanguine on that point,” said Darcy, “but Mr Trevor is here for that purpose.”
“Thank you for travelling such a great distance to escort me back to England. I understand you have many obligations due to your own estate in Derbyshire. I believe it is not far from the ancestral estates of Matlock?”
“Indeed, Princess—a small distance of ten miles. Our families have a long association in Derbyshire, which is a rugged area of England, not unlike the Black Forest.”
“Then I look forward to that strong association continuing. Please call me Hilda. All my friends do.”
“Thank you, Hilda. Please call me Fitzwilliam.”
Mr Trevor extracted a miniature of the viscount from his briefcase, which did not show the lines of dissipation already engraved upon Lord Robert Stanley’s face. After this likeness was presented to the princess, she made a show of looking at it, giving a nod and a smile before setting it carefully aside in order to ring a bell. Her uncle’s man of business in Vienna appeared in answer to this summons, taking Mr Trevor off to pore over the settlements. One of the princess’s friends, a Madame Bamberg, who had been close to the princess’s mother, then joined the party. She was accompanied by two maids bearing tea trays. The awkwardness of the situation was quickly dissipated by the two women and Bingley in polite conversation. Darcy could only be grateful for his friend’s presence. Once the tea was drunk, a pack of cards were produced to while away the time.
