Darcy grinned back—a warm genuine smile that somehow made Elizabeth’s knees tremble.
“Miss Bennet, I presume you were about to set out on a morning walk. Would you… That is, would it be an imposition if I accompanied you?”
Elizabeth hesitated briefly before shaking her head, nodding to the route she had been planning to take, and Darcy gathered his horse’s reins, falling into step beside her.
They ambled along in silence for several moments before Elizabeth spoke. “I am surprised to see you, sir. Were you and Miss Darcy not set to return to London this morning?”
“Indeed, we are. We will leave shortly after breakfast.” He turned to smile down at her. “Unlike you, Miss Bennet, my sister is not an early riser.”
Elizabeth walked on, but her gaze remained fixed on the ground where Mr. Darcy’s footsteps kept pace with her own. “I am glad to see you are able to walk and ride without difficulty,” she finally said, taking in his confident stride.
Darcy visibly started at her words, his focus shifting to his leg. “Yes. I was fortunate. The bones set well.”
“I am glad.”
They continued on for several minutes, Elizabeth still ruminating on Mr. Darcy’s conduct the previous evening. It had occurred to her that his altered behavior might simply have been a way to show his respect to the Bingleys, who were hosting him in their home. But regardless of Darcy’s reasons, she had been touched by his compassion for her sister, and suddenly felt the desire to tell him so.
“Mr. Darcy, I wished to thank you for your kindness last evening to my sister, Mary. It did not go unrecognized.”
Darcy looked over at her, surprise clearly written on his face. “You owe me no thanks, Miss Bennet. I found your sister to be a delightful dinner companion. I enjoyed her company, and I know Georgiana did as well.”
“Nevertheless, I noticed the care you took to converse on matters that were of interest to her. Mary can be reserved in company and you did a remarkable job of drawing her out. Indeed, I do not remember when I have seen her so animated, even amongst our immediate family.”
“I know how she feels. My own sister was once painfully shy, and I do not perform well to strangers myself, as I believe I remarked to you on another occasion.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, contemplating his words. It was true that Mr. Darcy had mentioned his apprehension amongst those with whom he was not well acquainted, but she had never given much thought to what this might mean. Was it possible that what she had seen as pride and arrogance were in fact nothing more than reserve and shyness? And what of Mary? Was it also true that her sister merely felt uneasy in company? A wave of guilt washed over her as she realized she had not been nearly as considerate of her middle sister as she ought. Indeed, it was Mr. Darcy, a virtual stranger, who had gone out of his way to put Mary at ease…
“You are unusually quiet this morning, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth looked up, her thoughts returning to the present. “You have my apologies, sir. I was thinking about my sister, Mary. I believe it would be good for her to get away from Longbourn for a while. I fear she is too much in Lydia and Kitty’s shadow and not enough out in society. Perhaps I will petition my aunt and uncle to allow her to accompany me on our tour of the Lakes.”
Elizabeth’s voice tapered off and Darcy turned to look at her. “Miss Bennet, I hope you will give some consideration to staying at Pemberley while you are in Derbyshire. I assure you, Miss Mary would be a welcome addition to your party. She and Georgiana appeared to get on well.”
Elizabeth studied Mr. Darcy out of the corner of her eye. What was he about? He had made no secret of the fact that he found her family beneath his notice and the behavior of her younger sisters in every way unsuitable. Elizabeth released a weary sigh. Remembering Lydia’s remarks last evening, she could hardly blame him. But it was one thing to be solicitous of Mary at dinner, and quite another to encourage a friendship between Mary and his own sister.
Unbidden, an image of Lady Margaret flashed to mind and Elizabeth’s stomach clenched. For all she knew, by summer the two might be wed, or at the very least, betrothed. When Elizabeth spoke, her tone was cool. “You are very gracious, Mr. Darcy, but we would not wish to intrude. I am certain you will have more intimate acquaintances at Pemberley this summer.”
Darcy’s forehead puckered. “I have no plans to host any large parties,” he began slowly. “The only other guest would be my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, if he can free himself from his duties.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth, and before she knew it, the words that had been tumbling through her head were on her lips. “Oh? Will Lady Margaret not be in residence, sir?”
Darcy’s stared back at her, confusion evident in his expression. “Lady Margaret? Forgive me; I do not understand…”
Elizabeth looked away, staring up into the branches of a nearby cherry tree, a warm flush creeping up her neck. Beside her, Mr. Darcy stiffened. A moment later he rocked back on his heels, clearing his voice.
“Actually, now that you mention it, it is possible Lady Margaret will visit. She often accompanies the viscount, Lord Hazelton. However, no plans of that nature have been fixed as yet.”
Elizabeth’s head snapped around as the gentleman continued, “I regret that I was not able to introduce Lord Hazelton to you that night at the theater, but unfortunately he had taken ill with a headache right before we were to leave.”
Comprehension slowly dawned and humiliation of the acutest kind colored Elizabeth’s cheeks. “So, the viscount is…”
“My cousin. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s elder brother.” Darcy paused before adding, “And Lady Margaret’s husband.”
Elizabeth bit her lower lip, raising her eyes to the gentleman by her side. “Mr. Darcy, I…”
Her breath caught as Darcy reached out, lifting her gloved hands. “Miss Bennet, please. Come to Pemberley. My sister does not make friends easily, and it would mean the world to her if you would come.”
Elizabeth looked into his eyes, and his expression seemed to brim with tenderness.
No, it was impossible. She could not, would not, go to Pemberley. Doing so would only set her up for further disappointment and heartbreak. She opened her mouth to tell him so.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “I will have to consult with my aunt and uncle, but yes. I would like that very much.”
Chapter 15
THE FOLLOWING TWO months passed swiftly. And while Elizabeth often visited Jane at Netherfield, she remained mostly at Longbourn, which was considerably quieter now that Lydia had removed to her new home in the village. Kitty continued to spend most of her time with her youngest sister, which left Elizabeth quite happily in Mary’s sole company. To Elizabeth’s surprise, she found that she and her middle sister had much in common, and they passed their days amicably—practicing duets on the pianoforte, reading and discussing books, or quietly sewing. Elizabeth had even begun to coax her usually sedentary sister out of the house, and the two would often take long rambles in the afternoon sunshine, collecting the wildflowers that were beginning to bloom in the Hertfordshire countryside.
It was on one such walk that Elizabeth broached the subject of Mary accompanying her on her tour of the Lakes, a proposition the Gardiners had readily agreed to and which Mary shyly accepted.
As summer was fast approaching, the local Militia was once again preparing to decamp to Brighton and Lydia was in a fit of joyful anticipation at the prospect of her first trip to the seaside. Although she had begged most urgently for Kitty’s company, Elizabeth was gratified to note that her father had refused the proposal—as he did not see Lydia as a fit chaperone, regardless of her marital state—causing no small amount of unrest in the Bennet household. It was eventually decided that instead, Kitty would travel to Kent with Maria Lucas to visit Mr. and Mrs. Collins, as she did not wish to remain alone at Longbourn.
And so, before Elizabeth knew it, she was once again packing for her journey north.
Reaching for the book on her bedside table, Elizabeth admired the glossy leather cover before tucking it inside her satchel. Snapping the clasp, her thoughts drifted to the gentleman who had given her the volume. In only a few days’ time she would be in Mr. Darcy’s company! Despite her best efforts, her pulse quickened at the thought. Though she would admit it to no one, over the past eight weeks, Mr. Darcy had been often on her mind. When she played the pianoforte, she would wonder if the composition was one that he would favor. When she and Mary discussed a book, she would speculate on what his opinion might be; and at night, she often dreamed of walking the gardens at Pemberley with Mr. Darcy by her side. But despite all this, Elizabeth continued to guard her heart. His relationship with Lady Margaret notwithstanding, the fact remained that Mr. Darcy had refused to offer for her. It would not do to hope for anything beyond friendship.
A knock sounded at the open door, pulling Elizabeth from her reflections, and a moment later, Mary entered the chamber.
“Lizzy, Papa wishes to know if he can send Mr. Hill for our things,” said Mary, as Elizabeth turned to close her trunk, tightening the leather strap.
“Yes, I am ready.” Lifting her gaze, Elizabeth regarded her sister who stood in the center of the room, clutching her reticule. Elizabeth smiled. If the expression on Mary’s face was any indication, one would think they were about to embark on a trip to the gallows rather than a Lakeside holiday.
Crossing the floor, Elizabeth brought her hands to rest upon her sister’s shoulders. “I know you are uneasy, dearest,” she said gently, “but there is no cause. I will be with you the entire time, and you needn’t go out on the water if you do not wish it. It will be a fine adventure, I promise you.”
Mary transferred her gaze to the carpet, before offering Elizabeth a small nod. “So you have said. But it is not our trip to the Lakes that worries me. It is the se’nnight we shall spend at Pemberley. I am still not at all comfortable in such esteemed company. What if I should use the wrong fork at dinner? Or fumble at the pianoforte? I have been practicing all week, but—”
Elizabeth pulled her sister into a tight embrace, stemming the flow of words. “Nonsense! Mr. Darcy and his sister are not such severe critics. And Mr. Darcy has assured me there will be no one in residence beyond our own small party and perhaps his cousin, who is very kind.”
At Elizabeth’s words, Mary seemed to relax a little. It was not until they reached the vestibule that Elizabeth reflected with some surprise on how her perception of Mr. Darcy had changed in the months since the accident.
And though she was loath to admit it, Elizabeth was looking forward to her trip to Pemberley far more than was likely wise.
***
The clock in Pemberley’s entrance hall chimed the hour as Darcy paced past it for the third time. Any moment, she would be here! Tugging at the lapels of his jacket he withdrew his watch, peering at the time before snapping it closed and returning the item to his pocket.
Glancing up at the sound of approaching footfalls, Darcy spied his housekeeper descending the sweeping staircase and hastened in her direction. “Mrs. Reynolds. I trust the bedchambers are all in order? There have been no last-minute complications?”
Darcy could see the glimmer of amusement in the older woman’s eyes, but she was quick to assure him that the entire house was in a state of readiness—indeed, had been for many days. Darcy received this information with a distracted nod. Leaving the housekeeper to carry on with her responsibilities, Darcy continued to pace in a tight circle, his fingers idly drumming against the edge of his coat.
“Was there anything else, Mr. Darcy?”
Lifting his head, Darcy noted that Mrs. Reynolds still stood at the foot of the stairs, gazing at him with interest.
“What? Oh, no, no. Pray, return to your duties.” His hand moved in the direction of his inner pocket, closing around the cool surface of his watch. Withdrawing the timepiece, he pressed the clasp, holding it up to the light.
A sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a cough emanated from his housekeeper’s throat, and Darcy straightened his shoulders. Executing a rigid bow, he turned, walking briskly in the direction of the drawing room.
Crossing the threshold, his gaze roamed the stylishly appointed salon. The terrace doors were open to the outside garden and a warm breeze stirred the air. Breathing in the sweet scent of peonies and lavender, he was instantly reminded of Elizabeth, and he could not help but smile. For a whole week, she would be here, under his roof, just as he had imagined countless times!
Making his way to the far side of the room, he gazed out into the sunny garden. Seven days. It was not much time. Not if he hoped to show Elizabeth that he had become a man worthy of her regard. Darcy sighed, dragging his fingers through the thick hair at the base of his neck. Much as he hated to admit it, women had always been a mystery to him. He had spent his entire adult life trying to avoid the marriage-minded misses who flocked to him for all the wrong reasons. Now, when he finally happened upon a woman whose affection he desperately wanted to win, the irony was not lost on him that he had not the slightest notion of how to go about it.
And this week would be his final chance. If he could not earn Elizabeth’s favor here at Pemberley, where he felt most like himself, there was no hope for it at all.
A sudden noise drew Darcy to the tall front windows where a carriage was just beginning its long approach.
His last opportunity was about to begin.
***
Darcy strode across the marble entrance hall, the sounds of his footsteps echoing in time with the pounding of his heart. Reaching the front door, he barely missed colliding with his butler who appeared from around a corner. Hastings stepped back, allowing his master to precede him in descending the front steps. The carriage pulled up under the columned portico and Darcy shuffled his weight, adjusting his cuffs. A moment later, Elizabeth’s uncle exited the coach, turning back to assist the ladies.
Warm greetings were exchanged, and though Darcy did his best to focus on Mr. Gardiner’s recounting of the fine condition of the roads, his gaze was repeatedly drawn to Elizabeth. Seeming to feel the weight of his stare, she turned in his direction, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.
Averting his gaze, Darcy motioned for the party to follow him inside. Leading the way up the steps he called over his shoulder, “Pray, do not worry about the luggage. My men will follow with it shortly.”
Entering the hall, Darcy spotted his housekeeper. “Ah, Mrs. Reynolds, allow me to present our guests. I believe you may remember Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her aunt and uncle, as they had occasion to tour Pemberley last summer. And this is Miss Bennet’s sister, Miss Mary Bennet.”
Pleasantries were exchanged and the housekeeper moved to show the newly arrived visitors to their rooms, but despite his best intentions, when Elizabeth walked past, Darcy found himself reaching for her hand.
At the slight pressure of his fingers she stopped, allowing the others to walk ahead. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Darcy leaned down, murmuring quietly in her ear, “Miss Bennet, I am very glad you are here.”
A deep flush stained Elizabeth’s cheeks and every nerve in Darcy’s body trembled.
“As am I, Mr. Darcy.” Her low reply was accompanied by a gentle squeeze of her fingers. But all too quickly she released his hand, hurriedly following the rest of her party up the stairs.
***
After showing the Gardiners to their chambers, Mrs. Reynolds led the Bennet sisters down another long corridor. Pushing open a gleaming mahogany door, the housekeeper stepped back to allow the ladies to enter.
Elizabeth crossed the threshold ahead of her sister and her eyes lit in quiet appreciation. “Oh, how lovely,” she breathed, as her gaze swept the sunlit chamber. Turning, she offered Mrs. Reynolds a grateful smile. “Thank you. I am certain Mary and I will be quite comfortable here.”
“Oh, no, Miss Bennet. This will be Miss Mary Bennet’s chamber. Your own apartment
is just down the hall. If you will follow me?”
Elizabeth exchanged a glance with her sister who remained rooted to the floor, her eyes wide.
“Oh! But… Truly, there is no need for us to occupy separate rooms. My sisters and I are quite accustomed to sharing.”
“‘Tis no trouble,” Mrs. Reynolds said simply. “We have ample space.”
Elizabeth’s eyes darted from the housekeeper to her sister before she finally shrugged, smiling briefly at Mary before turning to quit the room. At the end of the corridor another door was opened and Elizabeth entered, her breath immediately catching in her throat.
The room was, without question, the most beautiful she had ever seen.
Against the far wall, a massive bed hung with a green silk canopy was raised from the floor on a large dais, a long settee at its foot. Opposite the bed, a comfortable sofa and two chairs sat before a marble fireplace, and across the room, graceful French doors opened onto a large stone balcony. A double doorway at the other end of the bedchamber led to a sitting room that was easily as big as Longbourn’s front parlor.
As Elizabeth crossed into the adjoining chamber, it was evident that no detail had been overlooked. Vases filled with fresh flowers were placed throughout the suite, and a stack of fine writing paper sat atop an inlaid desk. An assortment of leather-bound books was neatly arranged on the low table nearest the window.
Elizabeth slowly pivoted to face the housekeeper. “Mrs. Reynolds, these chambers are exquisite. But are you certain there has not been some mistake? I cannot see that I should have need of such a large suite of rooms for only myself.”
As if to answer her question, a knock sounded at the open door and two footmen entered bearing Elizabeth’s trunk and setting it near a large armoire in the corner.
Mrs. Reynolds smiled. “There has been no mistake, Miss Bennet. Mr. Darcy issued very specific instructions as to who should get which room. He selected this apartment specifically for you. I believe he thought you would enjoy the view of the gardens,” she added, nodding to the French doors.
To Conquer Pride Page 16
