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The journey could not begin at once. His agents sought permissions to leave Mecklenburg, engaged servants willing to travel, and watched for news from Sweden, where a change in relations with Britain might make the final sea passage less precarious. Before the household set out, the summer was more than half spent. Albrecht grudged every day, but he would not have Adelheid or his attendants exposed to a voyage undertaken without papers or a receiving agent.

While the Falkenried household sought permission to travel, life in England resumed its smaller, steadier rhythms. Elizabeth returned from Pemberley with a sheaf of sketches from Georgiana and several new opinions concerning the arrangement of libraries. Lord Saye, having visited his estate upon his way south, declared that she had become dangerously interested in drainage. Richard was disappointed to learn that no amount of teasing would persuade her to describe Darcy's house as anything less than satisfactory.

Darcy himself spent part of each week attending to business in London and part in the company of the Matlocks. He brought Elizabeth a list of books available from a German bookseller and asked whether any might be useful when her mother's relatives arrived. Georgiana offered to copy out the music Elizabeth remembered from childhood so that she could play it if the prince wished to hear it. The two young women sometimes spent an entire morning disagreeing over whether the second verse was as Minna had sung it.

Elizabeth also wrote regularly to Jane, sometimes beginning with questions about Charlotte's household and Lydia's newest occupation and only afterward asking after Bingley. Jane was not deceived by the order of the questions. In return she wrote of ordinary afternoons at Netherfield and of how easily Charles made room for Mary and Kitty whenever the family called. Elizabeth kept those letters beside her German correspondence; on difficult mornings she read the familiar handwriting first.

By early August the Earl had received notice from a merchant correspondent that Albrecht's party intended to travel toward Sweden as soon as their papers were properly settled. It was not a promise of arrival on any certain date. Ships could be delayed by contrary winds, inspections, or simple misfortune. Nevertheless, it was the first report that described a journey actually being attempted, rather than discussed.

Lady Matlock began considering how best to welcome two guests who had crossed half of northern Europe without making them feel they were entering a tribunal. Saye offered to oversee the arrangements for their London lodgings, which would give Albrecht and Adelheid the privacy of their own household while leaving them near enough for frequent visits. Richard proposed an introductory dinner large enough for twenty guests and was informed that the prince might prefer to encounter his niece without an audience.

“Perhaps he will prefer a quiet room and a good cup of tea,” Elizabeth said.

“Then I shall have nothing to contribute,” Richard answered.

“You might try listening,” Saye suggested.

Richard looked sincerely astonished. “I had not realized the family had grown so desperate.”

Darcy's smile reassured Elizabeth as much as the jest. She was eager to meet Albrecht, but she would not wish the intervening days away. They contained meals and music, visits from people she loved, letters from Jane, and plans for a marriage that now included a house she had seen with her own eyes. Her mother's family might soon enlarge that happiness. Until then, she intended to enjoy what was already hers.

CHAPTER 20

Stories of a Mother

When Albrecht reached London in the latter part of August 1812, the first thing he noticed was its noise. The second was that he had spent so many years imagining the face of his lost sister that he had become afraid of seeing it on a stranger.

The road from Falkenried to the Baltic had occupied several days in travelling carriages, with halts for the horses and repeated inspection of their papers. At a Mecklenburg port a merchant correspondent secured them berths aboard a Swedish-registered sailing vessel, bound across the Baltic for Ystad with a cargo permitted by its papers. Even so, an official examined their documents so long that Adelheid feared they would miss the tide. From Ystad they continued west through Sweden in hired posting carriages, changing horses at the inns, until they reached Gothenburg. Only after Britain and Sweden signed their July peace treaty, with the new arrangements taking effect in August, did Albrecht’s agents consider the next passage sufficiently promising to arrange: a merchant ship carried them over the North Sea to Hull, where another set of post-chaises awaited for the journey south to London. Wind detained them twice, and one of the Swedish roads was nearly impassable after rain. From their departure in August to their arrival early in September, nearly five weeks passed. Adelheid objected to every sea crossing while insisting that she would not be left behind. Their servants had learned to regard each change from road to water and back again as an occasion for renewed caution.

Lord Matlock received the visitors first. He had no intention of allowing Elizabeth to be presented to an unknown family without taking the measure of its representatives; yet within a quarter of an hour he began to suspect that Albrecht was at least as frightened of wounding her as she was of disappointing him.

"I hope you will forgive the awkwardness of this beginning," the prince said in excellent, rather formal English. "I have imagined it for months and find myself wholly unprepared."

"I understand," the Earl answered. "Miss Bennet is very dear to us. We mean no offence by proceeding carefully."

"You could give me no greater assurance of your regard for her."

Adelheid stood near the window, admiring a vase of late roses and answering Lady Matlock's courtesies with flawless composure. She was a handsome woman, older than Elizabeth had expected, whose self-possession might have made an excellent impression had her attention not repeatedly returned to the door.

Then Elizabeth entered.

For a moment Albrecht did not move. He had expected the dark eyes and the curve of the brow that Countess von Altenfeld had described. What took his breath away was an ordinary gesture. Elizabeth paused just inside the room, one hand closing round the locket as though to steady herself. Minna had done precisely that when she was troubled, long before anyone had given her the jewel.

"Prince Albrecht," Elizabeth said softly, "I am very glad you have come."

Her German carried the warmth and careful music of a household Albrecht had believed silenced. He took a step toward her and then stopped, uncertain of the proper distance to offer a young lady he had never met.

"May I call you Elizabeth?" he asked.

"I should be sorry if you did not."

"Then perhaps you might call me Uncle Albrecht, when you are comfortable doing so."

Elizabeth smiled through sudden tears. "I think I could be comfortable with that already."

He took both her hands. She was not his sister; he knew that with a clarity almost painful. Yet she was something he had not dared hope to possess: a living consequence of Minna's happiness.

Adelheid approached, her expression tender. "Miss Bennet, you cannot imagine how much your existence means to my husband."