The Snowy Road to Pemberley

by Katie Bright

  Jane looked awkwardly at Charles who poured the tea into the cups as they sat in the kitchen.

  “The truth is Lizzy, he didn’t want you to know,” Charles replied. “Looking back, I can see the subtle changes in him, but that last visit he seemed to be a broken man. I mentioned you to him and he said to me, ‘don’t tell her that you saw me like this.’ He didn’t say any more.”

  “And you didn’t help him? How can you call yourself his best friend?” Elizabeth said.

  Charles looked wounded.

  “Don’t think I haven’t tried. I phoned him, wrote him letters. I even drove up there three times, but he wouldn’t see me. Mrs Reynolds said he wasn’t in, but I knew from the look on her face he was. Every time he promises to visit, he comes up with an excuse not to. You can only help those who want to be helped. If there was any other way, then I would do so in an instant,” Charles explained. “I know he’s finding money hard, but Netherfield is only just starting to keep its head above water. If I had the money to spare…”

  “It sounds to me like you haven’t tried very hard, you gave up too easily,” she replied.

  “Maybe I did.”

  “Forgive me Charles, it’s just the shock, that’s all,” she apologised, when she realised the effect of her words on him.

  “I know Lizzy, but what can you do?” Jane asked.

  “Not give up on him,” she sighed. “It’s the only thing I can do.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Chapter Five

  The Snowy Hills of Derbyshire

  The snow was falling thickly but gently, covering the road in front of her. Only the high hedges on either side of the road guided her way. When Elizabeth had set out from Longbourn in her little car, there was only a settling of frost on the leaves. But now as she tried to urge her car up the snow-covered hills of Derbyshire, a thick blanket of white covered the ground.

  She had thought it through over the past few days and there seemed to be no other way. If Darcy was ignoring phone calls and letters, then she would have to go up to Pemberley in person. But unlike Charles, she wouldn’t be persuaded to leave by a lie from Mrs Reynolds, no matter how loyally it was meant.

  Her Uncle Philips was more than happy to give her some time off. In fact, he seemed relieved. Elizabeth’s organising or ‘spring cleaning in winter’ as he was apt to call it, was unsettling the office from their usual midwinter slumber. With a nod, he told her to take as long as she needed to get the urge to organise out of her system, and not to hurry back.

  Her mother of course had been another stumbling block. Whilst she was sure that her father would understand her going to a friend’s aid, she doubted her mother would. Especially as that friend was Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  “Some godfather he is. He’s never here for a birthday or at Christmas. I’ll make an exception about Easter because men get confused about that one. But where is he when you need him? Up in Derbyshire twiddling his thumbs in his big house and eating a Bakewell tart no doubt,” her mother remarked whenever his name was mentioned.

  So instead of confiding in anyone about her true intentions, she lied and said that she was heading up north to visit Lydia and Wickham.

  “Are you sure you want to travel in this weather Lizzy? As much as I’d love you to see Lydia and her family, they did forecast snow for this afternoon and more coming in overnight,” her father cautioned her over breakfast that morning. “Plus, some parts have already had snow, you may be chancing it too much by setting out today.”

  “But surely they will have gritted the roads well,” Elizabeth replied as she finished her toast.

  “The main ones, yes, but you’ll have to travel down many a country lane to reach a dual carriageway, let alone the motorway,” he explained.

  “I don’t want my Lizzy driving on the motorway. I won’t rest,” her mother interrupted. “Your car is too small for a start and those lorries on the slow lane are so big. No, I won’t have you going and that is it.”

  “It’s alright Mamma, I’ll take the country lanes,” Elizabeth reassured her.

  “It’ll take you longer,” her father warned her.

  “I know Papa. But if it will keep Mamma happy then I’ll just have to stay overnight in a B and B. I’ll aim to get there sometime tomorrow.”

  “You do that Lizzy, but make sure you get a room where you can lock the door. And you don’t have to share the facilities,” her mother said, before she started to whisper. “If you know what I mean.”

  “She means the loo,” Mary added as she reached for another piece of toast.

  “Mary,” their mother complained. “Oh, and for heaven’s sake, if you break down, don’t accept any lifts off strangers.”

  “Of course Mamma,” she smiled.

  However, as her car reached the top of yet another hill, it finally gave up. And Elizabeth could not help but think, that a lift from anyone would be most welcome about now.

  She unclipped her seatbelt and went outside to check under the bonnet. But nothing was obvious to her untrained eyes. She jiggled a few wires and checked her oil, but both seemed fine. Yet still, the car wouldn’t start. She took a deep cold breath and resisted the urge to kick her car.

  Luckily, she knew where she was. The car had stopped just over the brow of the hill and she could see the gates of the Pemberley Estate just up ahead. She wondered if she could push the car and bump start it. But the snow was so thick in parts that she worried she might end up in a ditch. So, after she pushed the car to one side of the lane, she locked it up and started to make her way down the hill through the snow to Pemberley.

  The snow was deep now, as she walked along the country lane her feet sunk into the drifts, which were well up over the ankle of her boots and stopped somewhere short of her mid-calf. She noticed that the closer she came to the gatehouse, the deeper and more compact the snow was. It hung heavily on the hedges and trees and as she stood outside the gates, she found that she could no longer tell the difference between the road and the verge on either side. The snow must have been falling here for a couple of days, which in turn meant that making her way to Pemberley through the grounds would be no walk in the park.

  The ornate gates were open, not that you could have closed them. The snow was piled against them where someone had obviously cleared the road. She marvelled as snow clung to the scrollwork and the majestic gate posts like icing sugar, emphasising their shape and design. As she walked under the high arch of the gates she felt strangely at ease. She noticed that no one was in the gatehouse as she passed by. Elizabeth tried to recollect if there had been anyone living in it when she had last visited, but she couldn’t remember.

  Ahead of her was a dense forest of trees, snow-covered evergreens stood amongst bare oaks, whilst a white path wound its way through them like a satin ribbon. Had it been summertime, Elizabeth might have strayed off the path, determined to find a shorter route to the house. But with one tree looking very much like another, she decided to take the snowy road that would lead her to Pemberley instead.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Chapter Six

  The Road to Pemberley

  Elizabeth had been walking for nearly half an hour without seeing a soul around. She had encountered a fox which darted through the snow like a red flickering flame, and she was even followed for a while by a curious robin, who bobbed after her through the snow like a picture-perfect Christmas card. But she had seen no one else.

  She remembered that the drive up to Pemberley was very long and even when she had last come in a car, it took them a good fifteen minutes to reach the house. This didn’t bode well for her as she wasn’t making good time through the snow and her toes were starting to feel cold.

  As she came around yet another bend in the drive, she saw a vehicle coming down the drive towards her. For a minute she thought that it was Darcy, but as it grew closer, she realised it wasn’t him at all.

  Inside the four by four sat a white-haired old gentleman wrapped up in a thick coat to pr
otect him against the cold. As he came to a stop, he wound down the window.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “Yes, you can. I’m on my way up to the main house. My car broke down on the road,” Elizabeth explained.

  “Well, if you hop in Miss, I’ll take you back and see what I can do,” he replied.

  “That is very kind of you, but you see I was on my way to Pemberley. I’m a friend of Mr Darcy’s. Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she smiled.

  “A friend of young master Darcy,” he said as his eyes seemed to brighten at the thought.

  “Yes, I’m Elizabeth Bennet,” she said as she held out her gloved hand to him.

  “I’m Mr Reynolds,” he replied as he shook her hand. “Husband to Mrs Reynolds, Mr Darcy’s housekeeper. I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “I must admit Mr Reynolds, you are a sight for sore eyes, or should I say cold toes.”

  “Well get in Miss Bennet and I’ll take you up to the house.”

  Elizabeth went around to the other side of the vehicle and climbed in. The interior was basic and cluttered. It reminded her of Charles’ beloved Landy, reliable but cold. Mr Reynolds apologised about the mess.

  “I’m sorry about the clutter, but it’s only me who rides in this nowadays,” he said as he turned the four by four around.

  “It’s fine really. It’s a lot warmer than it is outside. So, what do you do at Pemberley, I didn’t think that Darcy had a butler?”

  Mr Reynolds laughed.

  “Oh, I’m no butler, I’m the head groundskeeper, or at least I used to be. It’s just me now, ever since…”

  “Ever since what?”

  “I don’t like to say. Tell me Miss Bennet,” he started to reply.

  “Please, call me Lizzy,” she said.

  “Lizzy, when was the last time you visited Pemberley?”

  She thought about it, when had the last time been? She remembered her first. She had gone on a driving holiday with her Uncle and Aunt Gardiner, mainly to escape from Longbourn for a little while, but also because her uncle had twisted his ankle and couldn’t drive the car. It had appeared like a daydream from behind the trees, the warm honey-coloured stone almost golden in the summer sun. The house wasn’t open to the public, but her aunt knew a friend of Mrs Reynolds who had arranged for them to visit whilst the family was away. Darcy had surprised her then, arriving back before the rest of his party. All of his pompous ways had seemed to have left him as soon as he drove under that gate. He was charm itself.

  But the last time she had visited, now when was that? Now she remembered. It was autumn and the leaves were displaying their season’s colours. The drive to the house was a wealth of golds and crimsons, mixed with acid yellows and warm coppers. Jane and Charles had gone to stay for the weekend and had taken her with them. Darcy hadn’t been surprised to see her, in fact, there was a room ready for her as if she had been expected. Jane was pregnant at the time with Henry, so it was only Darcy and Elizabeth who had shared long walks in the parkland. But in all that time alone, he never once mentioned his feelings towards her. And in truth, she doubted he would ever again.

  She turned to Mr Reynolds.

  “I’m ashamed to say I think it is probably three or four years since I last visited.”

  “Ah, then you’ll see the difference,” he said as he nodded in front of him as the vehicle turned the corner and Pemberley appeared on the horizon.

  In the cold winter light, it seemed to have lost its golden glow. The windows no longer shone but looked dull in comparison, and even under all the snow, she could tell that it had been some time since the gardens had been cared for. She felt quite sad at the sight of it. It was like a slumbering giant, not just asleep, but dying.

  “Mr Reynolds, how many people are working on the estate now?” she asked.

  “Well the tied farms and cottages are still occupied, but on the estate itself, just me and my wife.”

  “What about the groundsmen and the other estate workers?”

  “All gone, most of them have got jobs around about and a few of them still help out occasionally, but it’s more than I can handle,” he replied. “Pemberley is slowly fading away, as is Mr Darcy.”

  Mr Reynolds dropped Elizabeth off by the kitchen door and drove off to see what could be done for her car. He said that he would pop on a rigid frame he had in the back of the Land Rover and tow it back to the estate garage at any rate. Then he would bring her bags in when he had done that. She had said she would stop at a B and B in Lambton, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

  “There is plenty of room in our cottage if you don’t want to stay in the house yourself. But at any rate, my wife will see you settled in. If she tells you he’s out when you knock the door, give her the wink and tell her Bernard sent you. That’s me,” he said with a twinkle in his eye before he drove off.

  Elizabeth went to the kitchen door and pulled the bell pull, setting the chimes ringing inside. She had noticed that the path to the kitchen door had been cleared, although whomever did so, forgot to take the shovel back inside with them.

  As the door opened, she expected to see the familiar smiling face of Mrs Reynolds, but instead, she was shocked to see Darcy. He hadn’t changed really, he was as handsome as ever, but a little sadder. His hair was longer and unrulier than she had ever seen it, and from the slight beard that covered his face, she guessed he had not shaved for a good couple of days. He was wearing an old tweed jacket with a shirt and jumper underneath and faded jeans with warm worsted slippers which Jane had bought him from the children a few years ago.

  “Elizabeth,” he said somewhat taken aback.

  “Darcy,” she replied. “It’s been snowing I see.”

  “Oh, yes. Please, come in,” he said as he stood back to let her into the warmth of the kitchen and into Pemberley.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Chapter Seven

  Seeking Darcy

  Darcy still seemed in shock to see her standing there in the kitchen. His eyes darted over her taking in every feature as if she were some type of daydream that he was trying to remember vividly before she disappeared from view.

  “How did you get here?” he asked.

  “I came in my car, but it gave up just as it came over the hill. Mr Reynolds spotted me and gave me a lift up to the house. He’s gone to see if he can rescue it now,” she explained.

  “Who was it, Mr Darcy?” Mrs Reynolds asked as she came into the kitchen with a basket of laundry ready to be ironed. “Why Miss Bennet, how nice it is to see you.”

  “Hello Mrs Reynolds,” she greeted the housekeeper.

  Mrs Reynolds put down the laundry basket on the table and started to fuss over her straight away.

  “What are you doing here dear? Have you been offered a cup of tea?” Mrs Reynolds asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Shame on you Mr Darcy, are you forgetting your manners? Letting a young lady stand here in the cold by the door instead of having her sit down by the fire,” his housekeeper reprimanded him. “Now give me your coat and things and then you take a seat over there. Then I’ll get you a nice cup of tea. Milk and no sugar wasn’t it?” she asked as she took Elizabeth’s hat, scarf and gloves.

  “Yes, Mrs Reynolds. You have quite the memory,” Elizabeth remarked.

  “I always remember how someone takes their tea,” she smiled.

  Darcy still stood there watching as Elizabeth handed Mrs Reynolds her coat, which she promptly hung up. She walked across to the large old fireplace seeking its warmth with her hands, she felt the tingling heat in her fingers and face, before she took a seat in the high-backed wooden chair next to it, relishing the warmth.

  Mrs Reynolds was already busy again. She had not changed at all. Every time she had visited Pemberley, she had made Elizabeth feel welcome, almost like she had come home.

  “You should sit down too Mr Darcy, you’re cluttering up the place. Standing there with your mouth open, it’s not like you haven’t seen Miss Bennet before
,” Mrs Reynolds said to him before turning back to Elizabeth. “You’ll have to forgive him,” she teased. “We so rarely get visitors nowadays, that he’s forgotten what to do when they come.”

  Elizabeth smiled and this spurred him into action. He took her tea from Mrs Reynolds and handed it to her, as he came to stand beside the fire.

  “Forgive me, it’s just a surprise to see you here, that’s all,” Darcy explained. “Mrs Reynolds is right as always, and it won’t do for me to forget my manners.”

  “No, it won’t,” Mrs Reynolds replied.

  “Is it a good surprise or a bad one?” she asked.

  “Good,” he smiled.

  Georgiana had been right, she could see it now. Darcy had always been one for silences and few words, but even now he seemed more withdrawn into himself. She could recall times when he would flood conversation with enquiries about everyone’s health or how the journey had been. She could remember his polite conversations, where he had discussed the diversions on the A623 in detail. Even now, Elizabeth could remember his dismay at the local council for doing roadworks on a Bank Holiday Monday.

  But even now she could see him struggling for what to say, and it seemed that even his old fallbacks did not come easily to hand.

  “You didn’t say dear,” Mrs Reynolds added.

  “Say what?” Elizabeth replied.

  “What you were doing in Derbyshire.”

  “Oh, I’m on my way to visit my sister Lydia and I thought I would call in on the way.”

  “That’s not exactly a direct route,” Darcy remarked.

  “No, but I promised my mother to stick to the country roads. Then I thought, well, I hadn’t seen you in such a long time. Why not make a little detour? A visit to Pemberley is always worth the diversion,” she smiled.

  “Are you staying long?” he asked as his hand absentmindedly brushed along the edge of the mantlepiece.

  “I was hoping to get a room in the B and B at Lambton,” Elizabeth replied.