No, what she truly wished was that Jane were near enough to talk with. She had written her sister a letter, reassuring her and Mrs. Bennet that she was, in fact, quite alright and that she was well on the way to being fully mended. But Elizabeth knew confiding such annoyances as memory problems and lost words would have undone all of her assurances. It would be cruel to offer Jane such woeful tidings when days separated any visit or response.
It was their last full day at the country estate and Elizabeth was eager to be home. For many reasons, but Jane’s company chief among them.
The last week had been quite the trial. That was not to say, however, that there had been no pleasant pieces. If one was forced to convalesce, Elizabeth could hardly imagine a more pleasant place to pass the time than Pemberley.
The house itself, of course, was beautiful. But what made the stay truly pleasant were the residents: Mr. Darcy had a staff full of the most kind and considerate people Elizabeth had ever come across in service. They seemed truly delighted to be a part of Pemberley and always had a good word to say about Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy.
The effusion of praise for Mr. Darcy was confusing, to say the least. In fact, Elizabeth thought, Mr. Darcy’s behaviour during the entirety of her stay had been confusing. At Netherfield and Rosings, Mr. Darcy had been insufferably high-minded and arrogant. If he had deigned to speak, it was usually full of critique and sardonic commentary.
But here, in his own home, it seemed as if Mr. Darcy had come into possession of a completely different personality! He interacted with the servants with respect and affection, he had invited Aunt and Uncle Gardiner to dine with him for every meal, and Uncle Gardiner had, several times in fact, accompanied Mr. Darcy fishing or for a brandy and cigar in the evenings. He had never before displayed such sociability.
And his attitude towards Elizabeth had been quite the most confusing of all. Just weeks before, she had refused his proposal in no uncertain terms. In fact, Elizabeth still burned with embarrassment when she thought about her words—not her decision, but her words.
Any reasonable man would have cursed her and forever cut contact. Mr. Darcy would have been quite within his rights to throw her and her relations from his property the moment she had encountered him in the stable. Yet he had not.
And in the days since her accident, he had been… attentive. Elizabeth smiled at the memory of the first couple of days after her accident. She had tried to pass the time by reading, but the words swam before her eyes and her head pounded with the effort. Throwing the book aside, she had nearly hit Mr. Darcy on his way into the room. But he had merely picked it up, glanced at the cover, a collection of Shakespeare’s comedies, and complimented her choice!
Then, to Elizabeth’s continued amazement, he had drawn up a chair and begun to read! She laughed aloud at the memory of Mr. Darcy’s attempt to feminize his voice when he gave Beatrice life during “Much Ado About Nothing.”
The next day he had returned, this time with a volume of philosophy under his arm. And he read the morning away. Each day he had returned with a different, interesting book to read to her. And as Elizabeth healed, they spent less time reading and more time talking—debating in some cases.
She had truly enjoyed herself in a situation and in company she never could have imagined. And it confused her. Elizabeth wondered idly if she would have had an easier time figuring out Mr. Darcy if her head was not full of mush. She was annoyed to admit that it probably would not be easier. Mr. Darcy was turning out to be a far more complicated man than she had assumed—much to her chagrin.
A light knock at the door drew her from her thoughts of Mr. Darcy.
“Come in,” she said, pushing herself up in the bed and smoothing the covers. A quick blush came to her cheeks when she saw that Mr. Darcy was her visitor.
“Good afternoon, Miss Elizabeth,” he said with a small smile. “I hope that you are feeling well today?”
“Indeed, Mr. Darcy,” she answered. “I thank you for your care. It is undoubtedly a large reason for my quick recovery. I do hope that I will continue to heal at this rapid pace once I am back at home.”
Something flitted across Mr. Darcy’s face, but it was gone before Elizabeth could identify what it was.
“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “You go with the well wishes of everyone in this house and I’m sure our cook will send you along well-supplied with the nourishing treats of her kitchen.” Elizabeth’s mouth started to water at this; Mr. Darcy’s cook was truly gifted. “But it is my hope that you are well enough to join us for dinner tonight?”
“Certainly,” Elizabeth said, surprised. She had joined everyone downstairs for the evening meal the last several days.
“Excellent,” Mr. Darcy said, a smile again on his face. “For there is someone I very much wish you to meet. My sister, Georgiana, was not supposed to arrive from London until the day after tomorrow, but she has decided to surprise me and arrived today instead! She is most excited to make your acquaintance and will join us for dinner.”
“Miss Georgiana?” Elizabeth asked with surprise. She had heard about Georgiana Darcy and she was not certain that she was pleased to meet the girl. But good manners dictated only a single response. “I have heard much about your dear sister and am quite as eager as she to meet.”
“Then I shall see you this evening,” Mr. Darcy said with a bow. “For now, I leave you to rest.”
Elizabeth’s ankle barely hurt as she made her way downstairs on her aunt’s arm. For this, she was exceedingly grateful. So many of the activities which gave her joy were difficult at the moment: reading, conversation, and other pursuits that required the mind were too often a bit too much for her injured head to handle. If she were unable to walk, in addition to everything else, she would have been melancholy indeed.
She had spent the remainder of the afternoon anxiously anticipating this evening. She was nervous to meet Georgiana; she had heard much about the girl, and much of the information was in conflict with one another.
Caroline Bingley described a person who was a younger version of Caroline herself, while Wickham had described an arrogant, haughty, selfish girl who thought of no one but herself. Mr. Darcy had spoken of a kind and thoughtful girl, musically gifted and prone to great spurts of creative activity. Each person had their own motivation in describing Georgiana, and Elizabeth did not know who to believe.
Finally, she had determined that she would make up her own mind in due time and continued fretting would do her no good. Thankfully, she had no time to relapse in her decision as Aunt Gardiner, accompanied by a servant girl, arrived to help her get ready for the evening. That was sufficient distraction for her hindered mind, and Georgiana had been pushed out in favour of washing, dresses, and ribbons.
But now, making her way into the sitting room before dinner, Elizabeth’s apprehension returned with a vengeance.
“Have you met Miss Georgiana yet?” Elizabeth whispered to her aunt.
“Briefly, this afternoon,” Aunt Gardiner replied. “She seems the sweetest girl and Mr. Darcy glows in her presence.” Aunt Gardiner’s good opinion calmed Elizabeth. Her aunt was an excellent judge of character and very rarely misestimated someone.
They walked to the door and Elizabeth drew a deep breath before the servant girl pushed it open. As they stepped into the room, her eyes immediately found Mr. Darcy. He stood by the fire, conversing with two people: her uncle and, Elizabeth presumed, his sister.
Elizabeth was annoyed to discover that Georgiana’s back was to her and she could not yet see her face. All she could see, thus far, was that Georgiana was a tall girl in a light pink dress, with blonde curls pinned up in a fashionable manner.
Elizabeth, however, did not have long to wait before Mr. Darcy saw them and began to walk towards them.
“Mrs. Gardiner, Miss Elizabeth, how lovely of you to join us.” Mr. Darcy bowed deep, offering his arm to Elizabeth’s free side. Elizabeth took it, somewhat hesitantly, and allowed him and her aun
t to lead her to a chair close to the fire. She took it gratefully, suddenly feeling the effects of her injury.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said, after lowering her to the chair. “Please allow me to introduce my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.” Elizabeth could now see that Miss Georgiana was a lovely looking girl, with blue eyes dancing with life and a quick and ready smile.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Georgiana gushed, hardly waiting for her brother to stop talking. “I am so glad to finally meet you! My brother has told me ever so much about you! I feel as though I know you already!”
Elizabeth felt slightly overwhelmed by the enthusiastic greeting. But one part stuck in her mind: Mr. Darcy had told Georgiana all about her?
“A pleasure, Miss Georgiana,” Elizabeth said with a smile. She made to get up and curtsy, but Georgiana pushed her back down.
“Oh, please, stay sitting,” Georgiana said, taking a seat in a chair close by. “My brother told me about your dreadful accident and I have been so worried since I heard.”
“I had no idea that Mr. Darcy thought I was so worthy a subject upon which to discourse,” Elizabeth said wryly, glancing over at Mr. Darcy. He blushed immediately. “I hope he has only told you the good parts about me.”
“Well, he says that you play the piano very well, read extensively, and have a passion for walking through the countryside,” Georgiana elaborated. “And, of course, that you had some bad luck with one of our more beautiful horses.”
“Well, your brother tells the truth approximately three-fourths of the time,” Elizabeth replied with a laugh. “But I am afraid he has told you one egregious lie.”
“He would never,” Georgiana said, laughing as well. She looked affectionately at her brother. “He is scrupulously truthful in all matters.”
“Then we have found the one subject upon which he cannot be trusted,” Elizabeth said in mock solemnity. “For I cannot play the piano well, let alone very well. Every time I am forced to play, I feel nothing but sympathy for my audience.”
“You are too modest, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said quietly. “For I greatly enjoyed your playing when I last heard it.”
Elizabeth did not know what to say to that, but she felt a blush of her own coming over her cheeks. She hoped the fading sun and gathering darkness would hide the colour. Deciding to quickly change the subject, she turned back to Georgiana.
“Mr. Darcy tells me you are recently from London. What diversions did you most enjoy?”
Georgiana seemed excited to tell her all about her time in town. Elizabeth only half-listened to Georgiana’s discourse, but was delighted to realise that the girl found the most enjoyment from the activities that Elizabeth herself found diverting: music, art, and the like. She hardly mentioned the balls of the season and spoke of shopping only once. Elizabeth felt her affection for the girl growing.
Moments later, a servant announced dinner, and Elizabeth made her way to the table on her uncle’s arm. She was seated next to Mr. Darcy, and found herself studying his face in the candlelight.
He and his sister looked nothing alike. Where she was blonde with light blue eyes, Mr. Darcy had dark hair and eyes. They shared curls and, as both laughed together, Elizabeth noted they both had a single dimple on the same side of their smile. But, as Elizabeth knew well, Mr. Darcy’s smile was far more rare than that of Georgiana.
Elizabeth realised that she felt a great affection for all of Pemberley: the house and the grounds she had expected. She was not even surprised by a sudden longing to know Georgiana better. However, she was surprised to realise that Mr. Darcy was included among the list of things she would miss.
That certainly would not have been true even a week before, but Elizabeth could not deny that the kindness Mr. Darcy had displayed towards her and her aunt and uncle had moved her.
Mr. Darcy seemed to realise that Elizabeth was staring at him, and glanced over at her. Elizabeth quickly averted her eyes and said nothing. But she could feel his eyes upon her still.
“I enjoy London, of course, whenever I am present. However, I must admit that my heart lies here at Pemberley,” Georgiana said, continuing the conversation from the sitting room.
“Such is true of any born and bred in this wonderful place,” Mrs. Gardiner said, her face reflecting her own feelings of fondness and nostalgia.
“Hear, hear,” Mr. Darcy added with a smile. Elizabeth noted that this display of liking was not forced or due to social expectations—in this instance, Mr. Darcy’s smile was truly genuine.
“So the question must pass to our friends from Hertfordshire,” Georgiana said, looking back and forth between Elizabeth and Mr. Gardiner. “I could not possibly ask you to choose between Hertfordshire and Derbyshire, for that would put you in a precipitously awkward place. Instead, I will simply inquire as to whether or not you have enjoyed your time here.”
“You are most kind, Miss Darcy,” Uncle Gardiner said with a laugh. “To spare me such discomfort. However, I can say without remorse that I have seldom taken in such delights as I have experienced here at Pemberley.”
“I must agree with my uncle,” Elizabeth joined. Though her time had been marred by injury, aches, and pains, she could not look upon her visit with anything other than quiet content.
“I am overjoyed to hear it,” Georgiana answered, dipping her spoon into the soup that had just been placed in front of her. “I feared that your invalid state would rob you of enjoyment.”
“I would be dishonest if I were to claim that I have enjoyed every aspect of the last days,” Elizabeth admitted. “I cannot, in good conscience, recommend being thrown from a horse. But accidents do occur in this life, and I can scarcely think of a better place to be placed on bed rest than Pemberley House.” Without thinking, she gave Mr. Darcy a broad grin. “Both the care and the company have been without compare.”
Mr. Darcy seemed surprised but pleased to hear such speech. Elizabeth had hardly realised what she said before a blush coloured her cheeks and she hastily looked away.
“It is pleasing to hear that our efforts have succeeded,” Georgiana said, looking curiously from her brother to Elizabeth. “For we have desired to create a place that feels like home to any who cross the threshold.”
Elizabeth noted Georgiana’s gaze, and flashed the girl a quick smile before hiding her face behind her water glass. By the time she finished drinking, she was relieved to hear the conversation had continued on without her.
While the company steadily ate their way through five courses, Elizabeth caught herself looking at Darcy, almost unconsciously. She listened to his speech, his easy manner of relating to his sister, and the way in which he engaged Aunt and Uncle Gardiner in conversation. She felt a strange connection with him, but she could not identify what she was feeling.
Often, he turned to catch her gaze but she looked away as if she had never been looking in the first place. Several times, while she had been engaged in conversation with Georgiana or her aunt and uncle, she knew that he was staring at her as well. It was then her turn to try to catch his eye—and he let her.
For a few moments, they locked eyes before Elizabeth felt embarrassed and looked away. He was never the one to break their gaze and it did not escape Elizabeth’s notice.
As the evening wore on, Elizabeth found herself speaking less and less. Despite the days of recovery, her mind found it difficult to keep up with the flow of conversation, and an aching pain returned. Several times, she knew either Darcy or her aunt or uncle looked at her with worry, but each time she gave them a reassuring smile, quickly returning to her plate. Her appetite had not yet returned, but she gave a convincing show of consumption to ease the minds of everyone at the table.
The dinner itself had an attitude of merriment, but as the evening wore on, a sense of melancholy descended as well. It was their last night at Pemberley, and the later it got, the more everyone was reminded of this fact. Mr. Darcy, who had smiled more through the meal than Elizabeth had ever seen, was the most
obvious in his disappointment. By the time pudding was served, his smile had disappeared and he glowered at the cake in front of him.
Elizabeth felt the same sadness as he, though she kept it from her face. Her eagerness for home was no longer a strong enough balm to soothe the disappointment of leaving. She could not explain it, but Pemberley had wormed its way deep into her heart.
Chapter 8
Darcy
With forced enthusiasm, Darcy accompanied his guests to their hired coach. He had come out of the house first with the Gardiners, while Elizabeth stayed behind to say goodbye to Georgiana. A softly falling rain had discouraged his sister from going out of doors. Elizabeth and her relatives would be travelling straight back to Hertfordshire, their extended stay at Pemberley robbing them of their intended itinerary of the rest of the Peak District.
“You must return and see more of the county,” Darcy said to Mr. Gardiner. “For you have barely seen anything at all!”
“Nothing would make Mrs. Gardiner happier,” Mr. Gardiner replied with a laugh. “This place runs in her blood and she is often quite homesick for the peaks and rocks of Derbyshire. London has nothing to compare.”
“When the good Lord saw land and pronounced it ‘good,’ it was here that he was looking,” Mrs. Gardiner said with a smile. “Mr. Darcy, how can we ever repay your kindness?”
“There is no need, Mrs. Gardiner,” Darcy said emphatically. “Please believe me when I say it was a joy to have you. And you are most welcome to return.”
Mrs. Gardiner smiled and curtsied before allowing her husband to hand her up into the coach.
“My aunt speaks true when she speaks of your great generosity,” Darcy heard a rich feminine voice behind him. His throat constricted slightly as he recognised Elizabeth’s melodious tones. She had a beautiful voice, deep and rich like the hills. She possessed none of the shrill and sharp qualities that plagued other women. Hers was a voice that was like no other and he could listen to it forever.
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