Only Mr. Darcy Will Do

by Kara Louise

  “Well, then, it is settled. Arrange for Miss Bennet’s belongings to be brought down here, Mrs. Reynolds, as well as her meals.”

  Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. She was more grateful than she was surprised by Mr. Darcy’s light teasing. It at least removed the mortification she felt knowing he overheard her comment. “I thank you, sir, but my chambers are more than sufficient.”

  “You are pleased with Pemberley then?”

  She understood his question all too well. Nodding her head, she answered, “I am very well pleased.”

  As if suddenly having an afterthought, he looked at Rosalyn. “And you, Miss Matthews, are your accommodations to your liking?”

  A smile flashed across her face. “Oh! They are superb! Everything is positively splendid! I could not have asked for anything more!”

  Darcy nodded his head. “I am glad to hear that. Now, if you will excuse me… unless, Miss Bennet, you are quite certain you do not wish to move in here. I can certainly make the arrangements.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “As great a temptation as that might be, I must decline, for my duties as governess would prohibit that.”

  His eyes narrowed for a brief moment, and then he replied, “Yes. Your duties.”

  He gave a polite bow and then walked out of the library as the ladies stepped farther in. “Feel free to take some time to look around,” Mrs. Reynolds told them. “This is a wonderful collection. You are more than welcome to borrow any of the books to read while you are here. Just leave them on the desk when you are finished so they can be returned to their proper place.”

  Elizabeth stepped in one direction and Rosalyn the other. As Elizabeth walked deeper into the library, the smell of leather and the dark, rich wood of the shelves made her think of her father. Her eyes glistened with tears as she thought just how much he would have loved spending time in here. It was her father who had passed the love of reading on to her. She walked to the far end, passed a row of shelves, and ran her fingers along the spines of the books, reading the array of authors and titles.

  As she perused the books, her mind raced between thoughts of her father and also how Mr. Darcy had eased her discomfort just now. She had a sudden recollection of the look that had crossed his face when he questioned her about moving her belongings into here as being the same look as when they had been at Netherfield. It had been in the drawing room as she and Miss Bingley had been taking a turn about the room.

  Her eyes widened at the thought that he had been teasing—or had he in truth been flirting?—when he had told them he could observe their figures better from where he sat. Her fingers continued to brush against the books as her mind raced in a turmoil. She had never before considered that his words had been directed toward her in that manner.

  As she continued to turn all these thoughts over in her mind, her hand absently went from the books to a door at the far end. She reached down to the handle, and at only a light touch, the door opened. To her dismay, she found herself looking into a study.

  Darcy was sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his hands cradling the back of his head; his feet were stretched out and resting on top of the desk. At the sound of the door opening, he scrambled to right himself, pulling his feet down, standing up, and turning around.

  Elizabeth froze, and could not step back and close the door soon enough. “I am so… so… sorry,” Elizabeth stuttered. “I did not know…”

  Darcy reached for his coat, which he had taken off and had tossed onto the corner of his desk. He struggled to put his arm into its sleeve as he said, “No… no, it was my fault. I thought I had locked it.”

  Elizabeth finally had the presence of mind to take some steps backward, her face flushed with embarrassment. She did not even attempt to close the door but quickly turned to remove herself as swiftly as possible. What was I thinking? she asked herself. What must he be thinking?

  “Come, Elizabeth. We are moving on!” Rosalyn’s voice broke into her assaulting accusations against herself.

  “Coming,” Elizabeth answered in a rather shaky voice, more than grateful to leave. As she quickly walked out of the library, she refrained from stomping her foot in frustration. He must think I am so impertinent… so imprudent… so… “Ohhh!” she let out in a huff.

  “Here we are, Miss Bennet. Is anything amiss?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “No, nothing at all.”

  Mrs. Reynolds and Rosalyn were standing next to a closed door. “This is Mr. Darcy’s study,” she told them. “As he is now in here, we would not think of disturbing him. This is one place where he can come when he wishes to be alone. It is the one place where guests cannot go unless invited. Now, follow me.”

  Elizabeth’s insides tightened as they walked past, and she felt that even to take a breath was a monumental chore. Yes, this was going to be a long two weeks, indeed!

  Chapter 9

  As they continued down the hall, they came to a pair of closed double doors. Mrs. Reynolds turned to the two ladies before opening them. “This is Pemberley’s ballroom. Throughout the years, many guests have been in awe of its splendour and grandeur when they step in. Unfortunately it has been a very long time since a ball was held here.”

  She turned to open the doors, and as they swung open, Elizabeth and Rosalyn followed Mrs. Reynolds in. They both gasped as they gazed around the room. It was unlike anything Elizabeth had ever seen; certainly nothing in her neighbourhood in Hertfordshire even came close to being its equal. Stepping in, Elizabeth could almost hear the music, see the women in their fashionable gowns dancing under the candlelit chandeliers, and feel the delight of the guests.

  Rosalyn walked aimlessly about the room, her eyes bright, her jaw dropped. She took a step out toward the centre of the room and spun around with arms stretched out wide, as if taking a step in a dance and being twirled by her partner. “If only we could have a ball while we are here,” she whispered to Elizabeth, tucking her hand through her arm. “It would be quite heavenly.”

  With great reluctance they left the ballroom. Mrs. Reynolds then pointed out the downstairs sitting room, and indicated to Elizabeth where the children’s playroom and nursery were located. Elizabeth’s heart and mind were seized with the realization that those rooms were now her world, much more so than a ballroom. She doubted, in her current position, that she would ever attend a ball in such a place as this.

  They came to another set of stairs with two hallways going in separate directions from it. She described one wing as being the servants’ quarters, and the other wing as being additional apartments that were rarely used. She advised them that the sickroom was the first room down the servant’s hallway.

  “We shall take these stairs back up. They will take us through the portrait hall, past the music room, and then to the hallway that goes back to your rooms. Very nicely planned, Pemberley is.”

  They ascended the grand staircase, and Mrs. Reynolds described in detail how the exquisite woodwork and tile had come from different places around England and Europe, and the paintings that lined the walls were acquired by the late Mr. Darcy on his journeys.

  Elizabeth was surprised she was able to attend to Mrs. Reynolds’ words, as her mind still raced with the mortification she felt in walking into Mr. Darcy’s study unexpectedly… unannounced. She unwittingly let out a sigh of frustration.

  Upon hearing her, Rosalyn leaned in close and whispered, “It is all breathtaking, is it not?”

  Elizabeth merely nodded in accord, being content to allow Rosalyn to believe it was her admiration of the place that prompted her sigh. As she looked around her, however, she had to agree with Rosalyn’s estimation of Pemberley. Breathtaking.

  Upon reaching the top of the stairs, they found themselves in the portrait hall. Mrs. Reynolds began by explaining that the portraits at this end of the hall were the oldest, and at the far end hung the more recent paintings. She pointed out names and ancestral connection to the present Mr. and Miss Darcy as they walked between the myriad
of faces looking down at them.

  As Elizabeth glanced up at each face, she found herself searching for any similarity between the person in the painting and that person on whom she’d just so rudely walked in. She did, on occasion, see the crook of the mouth, the shape of the nose, or the deep-set brown eyes that belonged to Mr. Darcy. She wondered if Rosalyn was doing the same. A quick look at her friend revealed an interest solely in a portrait at the far end of the hall. Mr. Darcy’s.

  As they drew closer to that portrait, Elizabeth felt Rosalyn’s hand grip her arm, as if prodding her because she was not walking briskly enough. They soon found themselves looking up at the larger-than-life portrait of Mr. Darcy standing outside. A large tree trunk framed him on one side, and the leafy branches arched over him. He stood atop a hill, and it looked like the peaks of Derbyshire were spread out behind him in the distance. He looked particularly content in his surroundings. Dressed immaculately, he had an air of distinction about him.

  “It is a wonderful likeness of him!” gushed Rosalyn. “He is such a distinguished man!”

  “Oh, indeed, he is,” agreed Mrs. Reynolds. “Quite fastidious about being proper in all things.”

  A small smile began to form on Elizabeth’s face as she reflected upon her recent encounter with him. While she was deeply embarrassed by her injudicious manners, she realized he must have been just as mortified being caught in such an undignified posture. His look of surprise was not merely due to her walking in on him, but by being seen in such a fashion, leaning casually back in his chair, with his feet propped up on the desk, his coat tossed casually over the corner of it.

  She could not prevent a giggle from escaping as she contemplated this, all the while Rosalyn and Mrs. Reynolds affirmed each other in their noble opinion of the man. The both stopped and looked questioningly at her.

  “Elizabeth?” Rosalyn asked, her eyes displaying her displeasure. “What do you find so humorous?”

  Pressing her fingers up to her mouth to conceal any further laughter, she shook her head as tears of repressed laughter filled her eyes. How she could feel so mortified one moment and laugh about it the next, she could not comprehend. She certainly did not know how to answer Rosalyn.

  “I am sorry,” she said, as she again thought of the disparity between the man in the study and the fastidious man he wished for all to see. “My mind was on other things. Pray, forgive me, for I was not being particularly attentive.” As she looked back up at the painting, she suddenly wondered who the real man was.

  Rosalyn smiled a reluctant acceptance and turned back to Mrs. Reynolds, who seemed eager to talk about the final portrait.

  “This is Miss Darcy, painted just a year ago. Her brother arranged for the sitting, and we are all pleased with the results. Do you not think it a remarkable likeness?”

  “Yes,” both ladies answered.

  “She is certainly handsome,” added Rosalyn. “A very fine young lady, indeed.”

  “And her brother has had such a hand in her upbringing,” Mrs. Reynolds added. “He is so good to her and has always been there for her. It was very difficult when their father passed, but Mr. Darcy stepped into the role of guardian admirably.”

  “Such uncommon devotion,” sighed Rosalyn.

  “Yes, one would be hard pressed to find a brother who has taken care of his sister as well as he has Miss Darcy.” Mrs. Reynolds clasped her hands together. “Up ahead is the music room. Follow me, please.”

  Before continuing on, the two ladies both looked up again at the portrait of the Master of Pemberley. Each had a whirlwind of thoughts concerning the man whose likeness they scrutinized one last time.

  Elizabeth thought there was something different about him in this portrait, but she could not readily define it. It was the manner of his posture, the expression on his face, which entirely conflicted with what she knew of him—with what she thought she knew of him.

  Turning together, the two young ladies caught up with Mrs. Reynolds, who entered a room at one end of the hall.

  They both gasped when they stepped inside. A beautiful pianoforte had prominence in the centre of the room. Surrounding it were chairs and sofas. A harp was in the corner.

  Mrs. Reynolds turned to face them. “This pianoforte was given to Miss Darcy last year on her sixteenth birthday from her brother. She practices several times a day, so you most likely will hear the young lady play while you are here. I am quite certain you will appreciate how proficient she is.”

  “Will she perform for us?” Rosalyn asked.

  “She may, although she is somewhat shy about performing before others. You will be especially honoured if she does.”

  “And the harp?” asked Elizabeth.

  “The harp was the late Mrs. Darcy’s instrument. She played beautifully. Now it is only played by guests with that talent. Mr. Darcy loves to listen to the harp. Do either of you play?”

  Both ladies shook their head. Rosalyn looked most disappointed, and Elizabeth believed her to be chiding herself for never having learned the instrument.

  Mrs. Reynolds clasped her hands together. “This is the wing where your chambers are located. It appears we have less than an hour before the meal. That should give you enough time to freshen up.”

  She then excused herself, leaving the two ladies to return to their chambers. Elizabeth stopped to check on Emily, and upon finding her asleep, she quietly closed the door and returned to her chambers. She was grateful for some time to be alone before she returned to Emily’s room to ready her. It allowed her to ponder all that had happened, all that she had seen, and all that might happen in these next two weeks. She assumed Rosalyn could only be contemplating the same.

  ***

  Just before the supper hour, Elizabeth awakened and dressed Emily for the meal. As she readied her, Elizabeth talked with her about the importance of displaying good manners. Despite her own awkward display of ill-manners earlier, she could only hope that Emily would be a model of all that Elizabeth had taught her.

  “Remember, Emily, that you do not interrupt conversation. Only speak to the adults if you are spoken to. If no one talks during the course of the meal, you must remain silent yourself. We are guests, after all, and must observe Mr. and Miss Darcy and follow their example.”

  “I will remember,” Emily said in a melancholy voice. “But what if no one talks? I must remain silent the whole time?”

  Elizabeth recalled the meals she had taken when Mr. Darcy was present. He was not an avid talker. From what she had seen of his sister, she was even less of a talker. “If no one is talking, we must assume they prefer to eat in silence, and we will abide by their wishes.”

  Emily pursed her lips in a brief pout, but it was soon forgotten.

  As the dinner hour approached, they joined the others in the hallway before walking down to the dining room. Taking her place with Emily behind the others, Elizabeth paused briefly as she wondered whether she and her ward would even dine with the others. She told herself not to be disappointed if they did not.

  As they drew near the dining room, they could hear voices and laughter. Mrs. Willstone turned to Rosalyn with a wide smile and said, “This sounds like a lively group!” She reached over and tucked in a wayward lock of her sister’s hair. “Remember to be gracious and friendly to Mr. Darcy’s guests. It will be to your benefit to gain their good opinion.”

  “You know I will. You are beginning to sound more like Mama every day!”

  “Since she is not here, I rightly assume that responsibility.” Both ladies softly laughed.

  The party walked in and as they were noticed, faces turned to them with welcoming smiles. Mr. Darcy promptly joined them and greeted them with a short bow.

  “Good evening. I trust that all of you have had a restful afternoon after your travels and that you have found your rooms equally comfortable and accommodating.” A fleeting look was directed at Elizabeth, and then with a slightly raised brow he said, “I hope you have not encountered anything too
indecorous.”

  “Of course not!” exclaimed Rosalyn exuberantly as Elizabeth’s cheeks took on a deepened hue and her heart pounded erratically.

  Quickly turning to his other guests, Mr. Darcy made the introductions. “May I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Richard Willstone, their daughter Miss Emily Willstone, and Mrs. Willstone’s sister, Miss Rosalyn Matthews?” After pausing slightly, he looked hesitantly over to Elizabeth, an inexplicable glint in his eyes. “And this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Miss Emily Willstone’s governess.” As all eyes had now turned to her, she hoped the blush upon her cheeks had paled.

  He followed with introductions of his other guests. “These are my good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Goldsmith, their children Misses Gladys and Harriet Goldsmith, and their governess Miss Ellen Bartley.”

  Looking over at a gentleman who stood off by himself, he continued, “This is my cousin, Mr. Peter Hamilton. He is the son of my late father’s sister.” He looked over to Georgiana and nodded, encouraging her to continue.

  Stepping forward at her brother’s prompting, she softly said, “Shall we all be seated? I believe supper is ready to be served.” The young girl gestured toward the table, and everyone walked in.

  Since there was no indication where anyone was to sit, Elizabeth watched Miss Bartley to see where she and her two wards seated themselves. Both of the girls looked to be a little older than Emily. She was pleased that Emily would have some companions with whom to play while here. To Elizabeth, it appeared that Miss Bartley might be close to the age of her mother, and she was suddenly gripped with the dreadful thought that perhaps she, too, might remain an unmarried governess for the duration of her life.

  When Miss Bartley and the girls took seats at the far end of the table, Elizabeth and Emily joined them.

  Miss Darcy took her place at the centre of the table, leaving two seats between her and her brother, who sat down at the head of the table.

  Elizabeth could see the struggle Rosalyn faced in deciding where to sit, and finally, she took the chair next to Miss Darcy. Elizabeth wondered how difficult a decision that must have been for her to show preference to the young girl over the one with whom she was so enamoured.