A Trip to Italy

Aren’t I the lucky duck! I’ve just returned from a 12-day trip to Italy, and oh, the history geek/art-lover in me is still in raptures.

My kid, who is studying in the UK, finished classes right when my husband was able to take a bit of time from work, and we decided to meet up in Rome before all flying back to Canada for the Christmas break. Ah, the things we do for our children.

We certainly made good use of our time, exploring Ancient Roman sites, Medieval cathedrals, Renaissance villas, and Baroque palaces. We wandered through the amazing ruins of Pompeii, explored the fabulous Villa d’Este and gardens in Tivoli, gawked at the Leaning Tower of Pisa (yes, it really does look like it’s about to fall over), and wandered through the beautiful streets of Florence.

Ah, Florence. Florence is wonderful.

Back when I pretended to be an academic, my dissertation was on music written for the city of Florence at the end of the Middle Ages, celebrating the emergence of a new humanistic world view, and the city makes my soul sing. That cathedral, the beautiful Duomo, with its magnificent eight-sided dome, is beyond anything I can put into words.

(If you’re interested, this is the motet that launched me into my studies, all those years ago, Salve flos tuscae gentis, by Flemish composer Guillaume Dufay (1397-1474).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJGVFOA-eG8)

And then there’s the art. All that glorious art! We lost ourselves at the Uffizi and Accademia Galleries, gawking at masterpieces you never think you’ll see in real life.

Inspired by all this, I wondered what our favourite characters would think of Florence. I had an image of Darcy and Elizabeth wandering through the beautiful spaces we visited, and this story emerged. It’s a vignette more than anything, and I hope you like it.

The Enlightening Elements of Art on the Unhappy Gentleman at Leisure:
A contemporary Pride and Prejudice-inspired short story

©Riana Everly 2024

“I hate guided tours.”

William Darcy glared, not for the first time, at his friend, who stood beaming on the museum steps. No, not beaming. Practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Despite the cold nip in the December air, the Florentine sun was shining bright and at the moment, a stray beam had slipped through some architectural niche to gild Charles Bingley’s short curls in gold.

For his part, and also not for the first time, Charles rolled his eyes and laughed.

“It’s not a guided tour. Not that sort, anyway, with a million people. It’s an unofficial and private walk through the gallery with an expert. Come on, Will, how often do you get to go through the Uffizi with someone who really knows about art? I had to work hard to pull this favour.”

William exhaled something between a puff and a snort and thrust out his jaw, but that real knot of annoyance had loosened a while ago. Charles was right. As a well-educated and sophisticated man, William knew enough about art that he could really enjoy a personal guide through one of the world’s greatest galleries, but not so much that he wouldn’t also learn a huge amount.

“And who is this esteemed expert again?” he asked.

“Oh, a friend of a friend.” Charles shrugged nonchalantly, which made William nervous. Something was up. “Oh, I see her now!”

Charles bounced even higher, waving his arm up above the heads of the meagre crowds gathered near the entrance.

This really was the ideal time to be in Italy, William considered. The weather was cool but clear, and while Florence was hardly deserted, it was nowhere close to as crowded as during high tourist season. Christmas lights adorned the picturesque twisting streets, giving fairy-tale glow to an already magical city. After the dreadful year he’d just had, spending the holidays here had been an excellent idea.

Or not.

William’s eyes narrowed as he saw a familiar head weave through the smattering of people in the courtyard.

“No, Charles! Not her. I thought you meant a real expert.”

Whatever his friend might have replied, it was interrupted by an exclamation of joy and as a young woman rushed through the last bystanders to catch Charles in a quick hug and place a kiss on his cheek.

“Elizabeth! You found us,” Charles burst out, beaming even wider. “I was thrilled when you agreed to this. It’s been far too long.”

“I was surprised when you contacted me.” The young woman grinned back. “We all thought you’d left for good. But—”

She stopped short as she noticed William, standing off to the side. Her grin faded.

“William.” She sounded as pleased to see him as he was to see her.

“Ms Bennet.”

“Honestly, William, if you can’t be polite, at least call the lady by her proper title.” Charles was shaking his gold-auraed head again.

Her proper title? What did that mean? Did she wish to be referred to as Miss or Mrs? That seemed rather precious. And she’d never protested before, during their short and unpleasant period of acquaintance on that afternoon last summer. She was just a paint-spattered hippy, lumbering around with a sketchbook and pile of canvases, blobs of burnt sienna or cadmium red obscuring whatever he could see of her face beneath that ridiculous hat she had worn.

After that near-disaster with his sister and the ensuing confrontations with his aunt over the whole miserable affair, the last thing he had needed was to play nice to some hack pretending to be an artist at the beach. And now, here she was in Florence (looking surprisingly good, he had to admit), supposedly to show him around an art gallery. With her proper title. Whatever that was.

Charles spoke again before William could put any of these flickering thoughts into words, which was probably a good thing.

“She’s better known in the right circles as Professor Bennet. You know, from the Art History department at the university? She’s one of the experts in Renaissance Art. We’re really lucky she’s in Florence now and willing to take some time from her research.”

Professor.

Professor Bennet.

So, just perhaps, not a hack.

This changed things.

Not that William was a snob or anything—well, perhaps he was, he had to admit to himself—but maybe she did have something to talk to them about. He would try to be polite.

“…colleague wanted to visit family in Toronto, so we decided to swap homes for the Christmas holidays, till after New Years, in fact.”

William caught the last bit of Professor Bennet’s speech. It seemed they would be in Florence together for a few weeks, and would probably see each other again. He really should try to be polite. For Charles’ sake, if nothing else.

Elizabeth, as she insisted he call her, proved to be an excellent guide. If he had only met her now, dressed smartly if casually in loose grey trousers, a thin white pullover, and an elegant brightly patterned scarf, he would have started the acquaintance quite differently. She was well-spoken and funny, and her knowledge about the art and artists alike was exceptional. And, William now realised, she was also rather attractive, with her dark wavy hair, expressive hands, and bright eyes. How had he not noticed this before? It must have been the cadmium red on her nose.

Their exploration of the galleries lasted over three hours, but to William, it felt like twenty minutes. Never had Botticelli and Caravaggio been so fascinating; never had he understood the subtleties in the classical statues or the magnitude of Gentileschi’s talent. Her masterpiece of Judith and Holofernes now resonated with him in ways he had never thought possible.

No wonder she was a valued faculty member at the university. Perhaps he should pay more attention to art.

Charles had suggested they go somewhere for lunch afterwards, and Elizabeth suggested a small place she knew on the other side of the river. Just a few dozen steps off the busy main street, it was quiet and intimate. The proprietor seemed to know her, for he greeted her with a wink and asked after her research, to which she replied in what sounded like excellent Italian.

There was clearly more to Ms—Professor—Bennet than William had thought.

“How did you know I was going to be here?” she asked Charles once their bottle of wine had arrived. She swirled some in the large bowl of her wineglass with practiced motions, and William found his eyes fixed on the motion of her wrist.

Charles raised his own glass in an echo of a toast. “A little bird told me. Well, to tell the truth, Caroline said something.”

Elizabeth’s face hardened at the mention of Charles’ sister, and William felt his own jaw tighten. Caroline could be a hard person to like at times.

“Indeed.” Elizabeth placed her glass on the table. “Dare I ask what she said? I imagine it was not complimentary.”

A glimmer of a memory flashed through William’s mind. Caroline! Was that why he had formed such an immediate antipathy to Elizabeth when they first met? It had been on a bright summery day down at the beach in Toronto. William had agreed to join Charles and Caroline for a walk to take his mind off that mess his sister had got herself into, not for one moment expecting Charles to spot a woman painting, or to head over to admire her work, or to be captivated by the artist’s admittedly stunning sister.

Caroline had been the one to take umbrage, turning up her nose and snorting. “Ugh! Look at her, all covered in paint and dressed like a clown. Who does she think she is? Renoir? That painting is dreadful. She obviously doesn’t know a thing about art.”

And his head still whirling from the mess with his sister and his heart heavy after his aunt’s diatribe, William had agreed with her.

And when Charles and Jane had wandered down to the water, clearly besotted with each other, leaving Elizabeth and her cadmium red nose with William and Caroline, he had said and done nothing to improve matters, other than to agree when Caroline had made a disparaging comment about her use of perspective.

He groaned into his Chianti. What an ass he had been.

Charles was now laughing at Elizabeth’s comment. “No, Caroline had nothing much to say at all, only that Jane had mentioned something on social media about visiting her sister in Italy. It got me thinking, and I decided to reach out to you. You don’t mind, do you?”

Elizabeth laughed and picked up her wineglass again. “Not at all. But when you just disappeared…”

“It was badly done.” Charles shook his head. “I was called back to the Montreal office with no warning, and when Caroline said she’d organize things for the move, I thought she’d explain to Jane as well. When I didn’t hear from her, I thought she was too angry with me, and didn’t want to make things worse. She was angry, wasn’t she? I don’t blame her.”

“You can ask her yourself, if you like. She’s arriving tonight. Her flight should be landing in an hour or so, and then she’s taking the train from Rome. Give her a day to get over the worst of the jet lag, and I think she’ll be willing to hear your side of things.”

Charles’ face lit up. “I would like that. I have some explaining and grovelling to do.”

“As do I.” It was one of the first things William had said since they’d ordered. “I misjudged you, Professor. I’d like to make up for it. Perhaps, if you have time to spare from your research, would you care to join me at the Accademia? I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the pieces there.”

And also for the first time, Elizabeth looked directly at him with a genuine smile on her face, which was growing prettier by the second.

“I think I can arrange that, Mr Darcy. I would like that very much. It seems we’ll all be here over Christmas. That gives us lots of time. There’s also a Christmas Market by Santa Croce, and some lovely decorations at the Piazzale Michelangelo, if you don’t mind such plebian activities.”

Her words were a bit harsh, but there was a teasing sparkle in her eye that he found he did not mind at all.

He nodded, and she grinned, and then the food arrived and the general mood became one of merriment and pleasure.

“It appears,” William said after a moment, “that my perspective on things seems to have changed quite completely.”

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However you celebrate the season, may your festivals be perfect.

Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy Kwanzaa, a Joyful Everything Else… and Happy New Year!