Whilst en route to Milan, Georgiana valiantly struggled to keep up the appearance of composure, if not actual felicity. She was thankful to have her guide-books with her, and so could fill the hours rumbling along the final stage of the Via Sempione, relating the very bloody history of Milan, which had been besieged, sacked, and destroyed with an astonishing frequency. More recently, she concluded, in the past century alone, the city had been the possession of Spain, Germany, Austria, France, two states of Italy, and was again now a subject of Austria. Elizabeth wondered aloud how the Milanese could keep themselves in writing-paper with such frequent alteration of address, but perhaps the industry of the printers was a portion of the apparent prosperity they now beheld. Mr. Darcy smiled at this bon mot, but Elizabeth might have been speaking to herself, for all of the response she drew from Georgiana. At length, Georgiana recollected herself enough to inform them that present-day Milan had a population of about one hundred and fifty thousand souls.

Driving into the city, their route took them past the terminus of the Simplon, Buonaparte’s Triumphal Arch, sadly unfinished. The end of the Simplon as it approached Milan was very grand. The main road, passing through the great gates into Milan, was at least as wide as Piccadilly, with wide pavements on each side for the benefit of those walking. Unlike Paris, Milan was a warren of small, irregular streets, with few avenues of any size, and many streets so small that they could but barely accommodate a coach-and-four. Mr. Harmon was greatly vexed at the manoeuvres required to get close to their hôtel. The streets were a riot of carts, waggons, persons crossing everywhere, with no regard as to whether their way was clear, men standing in the street, shouting at one another, at passers-by, and even at persons at windows above the street. The noise and odours of the city were unlike any other of their knowledge, and made streets of Paris look like an oasis of well-regulated tranquility by comparison. They, at last, arrived at the Albergo della Gran-Bretagne, where they were to pass several days, and saw their baggage removed into the hôtel, and their horses and carriages disposed of safely in a mews near-by. Before they could settle into their rooms, it was necessary for Mr. Darcy to agree the price of their stay. As disagreeable as it was to the sensibilities of the English, Darcy had been advised that making a previous bargain was the only method of securing himself and his family against the greater evil of a dispute upon departure.