“Why do you say that?” asked Mr Gardiner, going over to examine the pianoforte. “It is a beautiful instrument and a fine addition to this house. Indeed, its appearance suggests a valuable antique.”
“There are other instruments as fine which might have been better choices,” said Mrs Reynolds, eyeing the pianoforte askance. “This instrument is old and… and there are stories attached to it…” She hesitated, then dropped her voice. “It pains me to question the master’s decisions, but ’twas not a wise move to bring it into the house.”
Elizabeth gave her a curious look. “What stories, may I ask?”
Mrs Reynolds looked uneasy and Elizabeth saw a flash of fear in her eyes.
“I know not the truth of it, miss, but there are whispers that this pianoforte is haunted.”
“Haunted?” said Mrs Gardiner in surprise. “And have you seen evidence of supernatural activity?”
Mrs Reynolds shifted uncomfortably. “There… There have been… The servants have heard things at night… music when no one should be playing…”
In spite of herself, Elizabeth felt a chill creep up her spine. She looked again at the pianoforte. It seemed so innocent, bathed in a ray of sunshine coming in through the windows. It was ridiculous to imagine a ghostly presence playing on its keys.
“Ah, well, these old antiques often have legends and stories attached to them,” said Mr Gardiner cheerfully. “Oftentimes they are nothing more than idle gossip and saucy tales spun to give the item more character. I have dealt with many such articles in my business. Do not let it distress you.”
Elizabeth remembered the music box from the Orient that her uncle had given her younger sister, Mary, and the belief that it too was cursed. Indeed, it was Darcy who had disproved that theory and shown that the horrific illness which had struck down the guests at the Netherfield ball was nothing more than an unfortunate coincidence.
And yet…
Elizabeth glanced at the pianoforte again, wondering if there was any grain of truth in the speculation about this instrument. Mrs Reynolds seemed like an eminently respectable, sensible woman. For her to take fright and view the instrument with such hostility suggested more than a passing coincidence.
CHAPTER THREE
“Is this a portrait of your mistress?” asked Mrs Gardiner, pausing in front of a painting situated on an easel in front of the old, disused fireplace. It was of a young lady dressed in a pretty muslin gown, sitting in a garden, her arms filled with lilacs.
“Yes. Is she not the prettiest young lady you have ever seen?” asked Mrs Reynolds, beaming with pride. “The master had this done during her recent trip to London. It was delivered together with the pianoforte last Monday.”
“And I have heard that her brother is very handsome too,” said Mrs Gardiner.
“Oh yes, there are none so handsome as my master!” gushed Mrs Reynolds. “If you follow me, there is a fine portrait of him in the gallery.”
Mrs Gardiner gave Elizabeth a mischievous look. “Lizzy can tell us if she thinks it is like, for she has seen the original and is in a position to compare.”
“Oh? Does this young lady know the master?” asked Mrs Reynolds, turning to look at Elizabeth with new interest.
“Yes. We… We met whilst he was in Hertfordshire.”
“Ah! Yes, the master must have had a grand time there for we were expecting him back much sooner. Indeed, the steward had several business affairs to settle with the master and was surprised to find him postponing his return several times. He had told us that he only intended to stay a few days at his friend’s estate, but it seems that he changed his mind. There must have been great attractions in Hertfordshire to hold his interest there for so long.”
Elizabeth coloured and looked away, but not before she caught her aunt giving her another shrewd look. They followed the housekeeper to the upstairs gallery—a long, stately room with several oil paintings hanging on the walls. Mr Reynolds halted before a large portrait of Darcy in riding jacket and breeches, standing next to his horse, and they gathered around her to look at the painting.
Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat as she looked up at that handsome countenance. She had not seen Darcy for many weeks now and the sight of those intent dark eyes, chiselled features, and strong mouth stirred something in her heart that was almost like a physical ache. There was a hint of a smile at the corners of Darcy’s mouth, in the portrait, and Elizabeth vividly remembered a similar expression on the gentleman’s face when he had looked at her in the past. She wondered suddenly if she would ever see Darcy’s eyes on her again.
Unable to bear the feelings of pain and regret, Elizabeth turned abruptly and walked to the other side of the gallery. Here was a glass case containing several miniatures, many of them very old. It seemed as if Darcy was determined to plague her, however, for the first thing she saw upon looking into the case was a miniature of his likeness. It had obviously been done when he was much younger—his mouth had less of its present sternness and his eyes seemed less guarded—and she delighted in this glimpse into Darcy’s youth. Now that he was forever lost to her, she seemed to crave any additional insights she could gain about him, any titbit of information about his background or character.
Then she was brought short by the miniature next to his. She leaned forwards and peered through the glass. Yes, there was no mistake: it was a portrait of George Wickham! Again, done several years ago, when the highwayman’s face had not been so weathered by debauchery and dissipation. Though he undoubtedly had striking looks too, Wickham’s cocksure handsomeness was in complete contrast to Darcy’s quietly aristocratic demeanour. And even at a young age, one could see the weakness about Wickham’s mouth and the gleam of devilry in his eyes.
Her aunt and uncle had followed her over to the case and were now copying her interest in Wickham’s portrait.
“Here is another handsome young man,” commented Mrs Gardiner. “I did not know that Mr Darcy had a brother? Though there is no likeness between them.”
Mrs Reynolds joined them. Her mouth pursed in disapproval. “That is no brother of my master. That young man is called George Wickham and he has turned out to be a bounder and an utter disgrace to the family. Indeed, his name is never mentioned in this house anymore.”
Mr Gardiner raised his eyebrows. “In that case, why is his portrait here with the others?”
“He was a favourite of the late Mr Darcy’s,” said Mrs Reynolds stiffly. “That miniature was done in the old master’s time and, out of respect for his father’s memory, my master has not removed the miniature from the collection, though it gives him pain to see it.”
“He sounds a most noble gentleman,” said Mr Gardiner.
“Aye, he is,” said Mrs Reynolds fiercely. “Some call him proud, but I have never seen any improper pride. He is always affable to the poor and generous to all under his care. Ask any of his servants or his tenants. We are all in agreement that we could not have a better landlord or master.”
Elizabeth longed to ask more but she did not dare. Why was Wickham—a highwayman—here in a portrait in this fine house? What was his connection to this noble family? She had known from observing their past interactions that Darcy and Wickham had had a prior acquaintance—and that it was not a happy one. But she knew not the particulars and Darcy had never explained them to her. She had always assumed that his disapproval of her previous association with Wickham was due to the fact that the latter was a highwayman—but now she wondered if there was some other cause for Darcy’s hostility towards the man.
As for her own feelings, she was deeply ashamed of having been duped by Wickham’s smooth manners and easy charm. She had been lulled into feeling pity for him and her mistake had nearly cost her family its respectability and good name. She cringed now to think of her misguided behaviour at the Netherfield ball. Had it not been for Darcy’s intervention, both she and Jane could have presently been suffering the disgrace of imprisonment. It was yet another reason for Elizabet
h to feel grateful towards Darcy. How many times in the past months had he watched over her and saved her from scandal and danger?
They soon completed their tour of the house and Mrs Reynolds passed them over to the head gardener. The Pemberley gardens were extensive, featuring over a hundred acres of carefully cultivated land, including water features, streams and lakes, an impressive maze, a rockery, a rose garden, and a bountiful kitchen and herb garden. Mrs Gardiner was particularly taken with the Lake Gardens on the south side of the house, where a large pool of water took pride of place in the centre of a gallery of fanciful sculptures. They spent several minutes wandering amongst the sculptures, admiring their workmanship and attempting to guess their forms, before walking slowly back towards the house.
Elizabeth fell behind as she paused by the lake again to admire its calm beauty. Something broke its surface with a splash, then another, and she saw a shape that looked like a tail. Was it a fish? The head gardener had been boasting of the monstrous pikes inhabiting the waters of Pemberley—was this one of the impressive specimens?
Curious, Elizabeth made her way out onto a small ornamental pier which extended slightly into the lake. She reached the end and bent over, peering into the water. It was dark and difficult to see, but she fancied that she caught the hint of a sinuous shape moving just beneath the surface, a few feet farther out…
A rustle behind her made her glance back over her shoulder.
The bushes near the pier parted and a tall, handsome gentleman in riding clothes stepped out.
“Mr Darcy!” cried Elizabeth, jerking up in surprise.
She lost her balance, tipping backwards over the edge of the pier. She flailed her arms, desperately trying to save herself. Her foot slipped and then, with a cry of alarm, she plunged into the water.
CHAPTER FOUR
The shock of the cold water was overwhelming and, for a moment, Elizabeth lost all sense of place or time. She gasped and inhaled a mouthful of water, choking and coughing as she attempted to fight her way back to the surface. The lake was much deeper than she had anticipated and the murky black depths were impossible to see through. The skirt of her gown seemed to have twisted around her legs and was now hampering their movement, so that she was unable to kick properly. She was filled with sudden panic.
Then she felt a strong hand grasp one arm and someone was pulling her upwards, towards the light. A moment later, her head broke the surface and she found herself being held securely against a strong male body as she gasped for breath and coughed up water.
“Elizabeth… Miss Bennet…” Darcy’s deep voice was full of concern. “Can you breathe?”
“Y-yes…” spluttered Elizabeth.
She felt Darcy’s arm come around her and he swam for the edge of the lake, pulling her gently with him. As they reached the shore, Elizabeth felt the ground once more beneath her feet and she stumbled, her hands going out involuntarily and grasping Darcy’s shoulders. His other arm came around her and they stood for a moment, almost in an embrace. Elizabeth felt her heart racing and she did not know if it was from the fear of the recent accident or the thrill of Darcy’s proximity.
He lifted her carefully out of the water and helped her onto dry ground. Elizabeth stood dripping, her gown completely waterlogged and her hair trailing down her back. She blushed to think what a sight she must be—oh, that Darcy should see her looking like this the very first time he saw her again!
And yet he seemed not to notice her dishevelled appearance. His gaze was tender as he gently lifted a weed from the tangles of her hair. Elizabeth noted with dismay that his own clothing was wet through as well.
“Mr Darcy… forgive me, your clothing is ruined!” she cried.
“I beg you do not distress yourself, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy. “It is a small price to pay to ensure your safety.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “I have never known such fear as when I saw you fall in and did not rise back to the surface.”
Elizabeth dared to raise her gaze to his and found his dark eyes so full of intense emotion that she felt hope flare in her breast. Could it be that Darcy still cared for her after all?
Then the intimate moment was interrupted by a cry of alarm. They looked up to see Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle hurrying towards them. Darcy dropped his arms and stepped away from her.
“Lizzy! Oh my God—are you all right?” cried Mrs Gardiner, rushing to their side.
“Yes, I am well, aunt,” said Elizabeth. “I am sorry to have given you such a fright. It was nothing more than carelessness on my part. I slipped and fell into the lake.”
“It was extremely lucky that this gentleman was here to rescue you,” commented Mr Gardiner, looking at Darcy with approval. Then recognition dawned on his face. “Why, I do believe this is—”
“Ah… yes… this is Mr Darcy,” said Elizabeth, hastily making introductions.
“Delighted to make your acquaintance, sir,” said Mr Gardiner, shaking Darcy’s hand. “And you have my gratitude for ensuring the safety of my niece. We have been enjoying a tour of your magnificent estate.”
“We had been told that you would be away from home,” said Elizabeth quickly. “Else we would never have dreamt of trespassing on your privacy. Had we known that you would be present, we would never have entertained the idea of visiting—”
“Indeed, I did not expect to be back so early myself,” Darcy assured her. “We had planned to stay at the summer party until the end of the week, but changed our minds and returned to Pemberley ahead of schedule. I am most grateful for the last-minute alteration, for I should have been exceedingly sorry to miss your visit.”
He glanced at Mr and Mrs Gardiner, then added, slightly awkwardly, “I… I had not been able to return to Hertfordshire as soon as I had hoped. Unexpected business kept me in London longer than I anticipated.”
Elizabeth realised that he could not say more in the presence of her aunt and uncle, but her spirits lifted at his words. It appeared that Darcy was attempting to explain his long absence and reassure her of his unwavering intent to see her again. Her embarrassment at being found in his home lessened. Indeed, as she glanced at him again from beneath her eyelashes, she felt that new hope grow further. Had Darcy longed for a reunion as much as she had?
“My party of friends will be arriving at the main entrance to the house as we speak,” said Darcy. “I had ridden ahead and left my horse at the stables, and decided to take this shortcut back to the house.” He smiled at Elizabeth. “It seems fortunate that I did.”
She returned his smile and felt her heart lift even more.
Darcy hesitated. “May I ask where you and your aunt and uncle are staying? I hope that during your visit to this part of the country, there might be an opportunity for my sister to make your acquaintance. Perhaps when you have had a chance to settle in, I may bring her to call upon you? I should very much like to introduce her to you.”
Elizabeth looked at him in delighted surprise. Knowing how much affection Darcy held for his sister, it was a great honour to be asked to befriend her.
“I should like that very much,” she said, giving him another shy smile.
“Yes, but now we must get you back to the inn at Lambton,” said her aunt briskly. “Look at you, you are shivering, my love! You shall catch a chill if you do not get warm and dry soon.”
Elizabeth had to admit that her aunt was right. Despite the summer weather, she was feeling goose bumps across her body and her wet gown was clinging to her in the most unpleasant fashion. She wrapped her arms around herself now to try and still the tremors of her body.
Darcy frowned. “You cannot remain thus attired. The ride back to Lambton is still five miles and you will perforce catch a chill. You must allow me to invite you into the house, whereupon you may find temporary attire that will at least be dry and allow you to make the return journey in better warmth and comfort.”
“No, I—” Elizabeth protested
“Thank you, Mr Darcy. That is very kind.
I believe we shall accept your offer,” said Mrs Gardiner, putting her hand briskly under her niece’s elbow and silencing her protests.
With a bow, Darcy turned and led them back towards the house. As they rounded the corner of the great manor, they met a girl running in their direction. She was tall but slight, with pale, delicate features and fine flyaway hair which at this moment was uncovered by a bonnet.
“Fitzwilliam! We were wondering where you—” She faltered to a stop, eyeing the visitors curiously.
Darcy chuckled. “This is not quite the introduction I had envisaged, but it is nonetheless a welcome occasion. Georgiana, I would like to introduce you to Miss Bennet and her aunt and uncle, Mr and Mrs Gardiner.” He turned to the others. “This is my sister, Georgiana.”
Elizabeth attempted to curtsy awkwardly in her wet gown, grimacing as the fabric squelched and water dripped onto the grass around her.
Georgiana’s eyes widened and surprise overcame her shyness. “Oh, my goodness! What happened to you?”
“Miss Bennet had an unfortunate fall in the Lake Gardens,” explained Darcy.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet,” Georgiana said hastily. “I hope you have not suffered an injury.”
Elizabeth gave a wan smile. “No, I am well. The only discomfort I suffer is from my wet clothing.”
“I have some items of clothing which might be suitable for temporary use,” said Georgiana shyly. “We’re not quite the same size, but they may be altered to fit you. My maid is a deft seamstress and could make the changes swiftly.” She gave Elizabeth another diffident smile. “Would you like to accompany me into the house, Miss Bennet?”
“Thank you, that is very kind of you.” Elizabeth accepted gratefully.
They moved together towards the front entrance of the house and Elizabeth’s heart sank as she spied several familiar persons, in particular the tall figure of Caroline Bingley. The woman’s face darkened with displeasure when she saw Elizabeth, then her gaze roved insolently over Elizabeth’s appearance and her eyebrows shot up in mock surprise.
Secrets at Pemberley Page 2
