Elizabeth stood very still in the center of her bedroom in Pemberley, imagining that if she could stop her breath and the sound of the blood rushing in her ears, she might even be able to hear the movements of Mr. Darcy, wherever he was in this enormous house.
It was silly. He was probably in another wing entirely. And yet, she did not know what to do with herself. This was a private, family moment. She’d watched them go upstairs, arm in arm, while Georgiana overflowed with joy at her brother’s return. Even now, Georgiana was off making preparations—telling the cook to ready her brother’s favorite meal, sending footmen to go through his wardrobe, and dispatching messengers to Colonel Fitzwilliam in the village.
Elizabeth was too scared to wander about the premises. Her room seemed the safest place. But now she was uncertain of how she might occupy her time. She sat upon a chair and looked at her embroidery. She crossed to the window and pretended to stare at a flock of birds. She looked at her reflection in the glass and wondered if she had changed as much since last winter as Mr. Darcy had.
Oh, how he had changed! When he first spilled out of the carriage, she was not even certain that it was Mr. Darcy. As tall as ever, but with a different shape than he’d had before—so trim in the waist, but broad in the shoulders. His cheekbones dominated his thin face, over which his hair fell in long, unkempt waves that did little to hide his haunted eyes, which burned like dark flames.
No, that was not true. She’d known him in an instant. The entire world seemed to blow away, leaving only Mr. Darcy and herself in a void of gray.
But it lasted only an instant. He was surprised to see her here. All at once, she went from thrilling to find him back at Pemberley, where he was so much wanted by everyone, to feeling mortified to be there as well. She knew his family had heard from him but rarely all these months, and that for long periods they did not even know exactly where he might be found. But it did not occur to her that he was completely unaware of her friendship with Georgiana. Or, if it had, she considered only that Mr. Darcy seemed to have divorced himself completely from whatever was occurring with Georgiana back in England.
What must he think of her, to be here, in his home without his knowledge?
She must go. Yes, she must. Mr. Darcy would want his privacy as he recalled his place at Pemberley, as he rejoined his sister in the social scene. And Georgiana—she would not be so lonely anymore, now that she had her brother. They would have each other. There was no place for Elizabeth. She was certain that Colonel Fitzwilliam would leave as well.
She resolved to tell Georgiana at once. She would have a maid called to pack up her things. Elizabeth rose and crossed to the door, opened it, stepped through—and ran right into the broad chest of Mr. Darcy, who must have been standing just upon the threshold.
She stumbled back, and he reached out and closed his hands about her upper arms, steadying her.
Bare hands, rough and callused, seared her skin. These were not the hands of the man she had danced with at Netherfield. It felt like the touch of a farmhand. What had he been doing all this time?
“Forgive me,” he said. “I was just passing by.”
That was impossible. They weren’t even properly in the corridor. They were barely without her door.
Why had he been standing there?
She raised her eyes to look at him. He wore fresh clothes—such as they were. The trousers did not fit, being too loose in some places and too tight in others. He wore no coat at all, and his vest did not close over his chest. His cravat lay loose around his neck. Elizabeth averted her eyes.
Georgiana had said he’d dismissed his valet.
“And how do you find Derbyshire, Miss Bennet?”
Again, her gaze shot to his face. She would not look at his clothes, or lack thereof, but once she caught sight of his countenance, she forgot clothing existed at all. He stared at her boldly, with eyes that contained a multitude of storms.
She tried to recall that he had always had that manner. Even at Netherfield, she would often catch him staring at her. But if it had been disconcerting then, it was astonishing now.
“It holds every fascination, sir. I recall one time you boasted of its loveliness, and I find I cannot disagree. But you, who have traveled so far—what say you now?”
He opened his mouth to respond, then appeared to think better of it. His hand lifted, and for a moment she thought he might touch her again, but instead he reached for the glossy, polished oaken paneling that lined this corridor, like so many other halls in Pemberley. He caressed a leaf and a curlicue, smiling sadly at the wood.
“This color,” he said. “This marvelous marriage of gold and brown. I have known its beauty all my life. Rarely have I seen its equal.”
“Indeed.” Elizabeth swallowed. She supposed that was an answer. Of a sort.
“I wonder if that is why I always liked the shade of your eyes.”
Her jaw dropped. “I beg your pardon.”
His gaze slid from the wall to her, but his expression did not change. “Indeed. You well might.” He took a step back and bowed, then turned on his heel and departed.
Elizabeth stood there, watching his tall figure disappear down the corridor, a speck of white shirt against all that wood.
Wood, she was forced to admit, the same rich brown as her eyes…
She pressed her hand to her heart. Perhaps she would not leave so soon. Georgiana’s brother had returned to Pemberley, but one fact was clear:
He was not the same Mr. Darcy who had left.
Chapter 23
Darcy had almost come down in his shirtsleeves, but Georgiana caught him in the act, sent him back to his room, and insisted he finish getting dressed.
“Nothing fits, Georgiana,” he said to her at the door to his dressing-room. “I cannot get any of my old clothes over my shoulders. All I have is the dusty coat I was wearing when I arrived.”
He expected her to withdraw, but instead, she only frowned. “I suppose this is what I should have expected, knowing you dismissed your valet. Your wardrobe is in a frightful state. Only a single coat? Are you a common laborer?”
No, he was the master of Pemberley. “If you think I am not suitable to go downstairs, I can eat in my room. You did say that was an option.”
She seemed to consider this for one brief moment, then dismissed it. “We would all rather you came downstairs.”
Who was all? Did it include, for example, Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Elizabeth Bennet, who walked these halls as if she belonged here?
Georgiana was even now examining his coat. “I will have this brushed. It will have to do, until your trunks arrive.”
“My trunks?” He feigned innocence.
“From the ship. I had thought they would come soon.”
He spread his arms. “I learned to travel light, in the Alps. You are fortunate that I am not in hobnailed boots.”
She blinked at him in shock. “You have no other things?”
“Not anymore.” He had rid himself of all the trappings of his position. His fine clothes, his snooty valet. He had found it strange that he ever thought he had needed them.
And here was Pemberley, ever the same. Ever the same and yet so different.
“Then we shall send for a tailor from the village. It shall not be as fine as what you might get in London, but it will do. And I will write to our housekeeper in town. Surely you have clothes you left there.”
Georgiana was all brutal efficiency. What had happened to the girl who thought of nothing but her pianoforte?
You left her to fend for herself for six months. To make friends with Elizabeth Bennet.
“You may do as you like with my clothes in London, Georgiana. They shall not fit me either. I cannot close the material about my shoulders. All that picking through the ice, you see.”
She regarded him for a long moment, then rallied her strength. “At least the tailor will have something to work with.”
Darcy did not know what to do. Where was the chi
ld who looked upon him almost as a father? The meek, shy little thing who would run from the room if he so much as used a stern voice?
“How long has Elizabeth Bennet been at Pemberley?”
“A little more than a week.”
“And how long will she remain?”
Again, the look of shock. “No longer than you wish, to be sure. It is your house, brother.”
“I did not say—” he turned away. “I did not say I did not wish her to be here.” He could not say that and mean it.
“That is very good,” said his sister, her tone curt. “As I could not have asked for a better friend to me, all these long months that you have been away. And you could not have asked for one, either.”
How had this happened? “I cannot comprehend your meaning.”
“Can you not?” She gave him a canny glance. “I first met Miss Bennet at Rosings Park, where she defended you to Lady Catherine. Our aunt was most worried about what was being said of you in Miss Bennet’s area of the country, but she affirmed to her ladyship that everyone who mattered in Meryton believes your character above approach. And, I dare say, she has done more than that when she has been at home.”
Darcy scowled. That was not how it was supposed to have gone. “It is not Miss Bennet’s place to defend me. She does not even know me.”
“She knows you are a man of honor,” said Georgiana, her chin held high.
The word hit him hard, and he whirled to face his sister. “Of honor!” Good God, what had the stories become now?
Georgiana faltered. “We need not discuss this now, if you had rather…”
What he would rather was no longer on offer. Not with Elizabeth Bennet sleeping under this roof. It was not as if he’d a real plan for returning to Pemberley, but what had passed for a plan in idle moments became impossible the instant he’d laid eyes on her.
Elizabeth Bennet was supposed to be a memory. A phantom. She wasn’t supposed to be on the lawn or down the hall or within the reach of his arms, looking for all the world as if not a single second had passed since the Netherfield ball. Glowing with good cheer and speaking with good humor and turning his sister into a pert little version of herself.
As if she didn’t haunt him thoroughly enough already. As if she did not remind him of a time that was much better forgot by all.
The servant arrived to collect his old coat for brushing. Georgiana delivered the instructions, then stood silently, hands folded and eyes on Mr. Darcy, until the footman was gone.
Darcy chuckled. Yes, do not let the staff see them sweat, as if whispers had not already overflowed every room downstairs. The master of Pemberley, back without warning, not to mention without belongings or servants of his own to interrogate as to what Mr. Darcy had been doing abroad.
When they were alone, she spoke again. “I am surprised to hear you say you do not know Miss Bennet. I had thought you to have become acquainted in Hertfordshire.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“True,” conceded Georgiana. “And you have had many adventures since, I dare say.”
“Yes.” What did she mean by all this? Darcy dreaded to think.
“But I hope that you will come to know her now, as I do. I think you will find her a delightful houseguest. Our cousin is rather taken with her. Should she have any fortune of her own to speak of, I believe he might be in some danger.”
Darcy’s eyes widened. But Georgiana only smiled in that new, sly way that made him unsure of whether or not she was joking.
“I must dress for dinner now,” she said. “I will endeavor to look grand enough for the both of us.”
And then she kissed him on the cheek and left.
Some danger! Colonel Fitzwilliam would not have any real interest in some chit like Elizabeth, would he? He was a flirt, as always, and nothing more. Of course a country girl like Elizabeth would be quite impressed with his status, and those Bennet girls always had a weakness for a red coat, but Darcy’s cousin had never let himself be taken in by flattery and a pretty face. He and Darcy would laugh at such absurdities in the gentlemen they knew.
Except Darcy himself had not been immune to the charms of Elizabeth Bennet. He had found himself in very great danger in that regard when he was in Hertfordshire. He had given up much to ensure that her reputation remained intact, that her life would be happy and free and have nothing whatsoever to do with him.
Not so she could befriend his sister and inveigle his cousin!
The servant who returned with his freshly brushed and pressed coat might have quite the story to tell downstairs, as Darcy snatched it from his hands and donned it angrily, forcing the fastenings himself. It was tight, all done up like that. He had the shoulders of a lumberjack thanks to his time on the mountain. But it would have to do. He strode, stiffly, due to the confines of the wool, down to the drawing room for dinner.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was already in conversation with Elizabeth—a conversation that for some reason required an indelicate amount of laughter and smiles. The man looked up when Darcy entered.
“Darcy!” he exclaimed and rushed forward and grabbed Darcy’s hand in his own. “My dear chap, we never would have thought it! I was ready to send a search party into the Alps if we didn’t make contact with you soon. And all this time you have been on your way home to us. I will shame you later, cousin, you can be sure of that. But for now, I am just so pleased to see you, I can hardly contain my joy.”
“I am glad to see you, too,” he said, then looked past his cousin. “And Miss Bennet.”
She was standing by the window and watching him with wary eyes. The sun was setting over Pemberley, setting her dark hair alight with traces of gold and fire.
His cousin began speaking again, finishing some story he was telling Miss Bennet about a journey to Scotland. She listened and responded, the usual pleasantries and her signature witticism, until Georgiana came into the room. Soon enough, they were all called into dinner, and Darcy noted that there must have been a shuffle about their seats, but soon enough, they were all deposited at the table, with Georgiana on one side and Elizabeth on the other.
It was so like a dream he had once had. And also so very wrong.
Georgiana nodded as the first course was served, and held up her wine glass. “It is so good to see you where you belong again, brother. At the head of the table at Pemberley. I hope it shall never change.”
“Yes, indeed!” Colonel Fitzwilliam also lifted his glass, and then Elizabeth followed suit.
Darcy clenched his jaw. “Even if it is in my one old coat?”
Georgiana colored slightly. “You must forgive my brother’s dress, Elizabeth. Apparently, his trunks were lost at sea.”
“How dreadful.” said Elizabeth politely. She looked at Darcy. “Though I will say of your brother, he is a gentleman in new clothes or old suits or even, one time, covered in mud.”
There was the ghost of a smile upon her face, but Darcy’s expression was stern indeed. He had not thought she would remember that afternoon beneath the yew.
He did not know what to think of the fact that she did.
“In mud?” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Miss Bennet, you must have a story to share.”
“Oh, I do not think so,” she replied airily. “At any rate, not one half so amusing as the dullest tale Mr. Darcy might have to share from his journey abroad.”
“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Georgiana. “We would like to hear everything. Your letters were so infrequent.”
“There was rarely any post in the remote villages where I was traveling.” He picked at his food.
“You were the very devil to locate with the letters we did send,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “I do not know if even half of them arrived.”
“Some arrived,” Darcy said, his tone clipped. “But their contents did not bring me enough joy to work to ensure that more were received.”
Georgiana’s lips clamped closed. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s brow furrowed. And Elizabeth—she glared a
t him.
“How can you say that?” Georgiana whispered. Darcy looked down at his plate to save himself from answering, or seeing the pain writ across her face.
“Do not mind him, Georgiana,” said Elizabeth. “For I must say I agree. There is nothing so tiresome as an interruption when one has made it quite clear one does not wish to be disturbed.”
Darcy kept his face turned down but his gaze slid to her.
“And Mr. Darcy could not have been clearer that he wished for privacy—no place in the world so lonesome as the top of a mountain, is that not so, sir?”
“Quite.” Now he gave her his full attention.
“But now you have returned home. To be with your family. And thus, one must conclude that you are again in a humor to associate with those who have loved and missed you for so long. To hear of all that has happened while you were away, and to tell, in your turn, of the things you have seen and the adventures you have had.”
And still he said nothing.
Elizabeth looked at Georgiana. “Perhaps you would like to begin. Mr. Darcy says he was not fortunate enough to receive all your letters. Perhaps there is an account from one you might share with him now?”
Georgiana nodded and launched into a tale about a recent occasion during which poor Moth had thrown a shoe several miles from home. Darcy listened politely. Nothing of great consequence had befallen his sister. She was with her groom, and soon enough, the horse was reshod and Georgiana soon on her way again. It was not a disaster, and had needed no action on his part.
He had been gone from her life for six months and returned to find her far better than he’d left her. And then, when dinner was done and the ladies had withdrawn, and Colonel Fitzwilliam enlightened him as to the current state of Pemberley, Darcy learned that his property had not suffered greatly in his absence, either.
He sipped his brandy and glared at his cousin. “You all seem to have gotten along well without me. Perhaps the only wonder is why you thought I should return?”
Georgiana pulled Elizabeth aside the moment they were alone. “He is not himself, don’t you think?”
In Darcy's Dreams Page 16
