Chapter Two
Elizabeth
Pemberley, Derbyshire
10th December 1812
E ventually, Pemberley estate came into view. Elizabeth could not deny it was a magnificent sight—a handsome and expansive manor surrounded by pristine gardens—which she imagined were quite glorious in spring and summer, bordered by a stream that wound its way gracefully around the grounds. Derbyshire itself had been a balm to her eyes during the long journey, with its tranquil and picturesque scenery, and Pemberley seemed to be the jewel of the county. The snow blanketing the land lay undisturbed save for the occasional trail of footprints, evidence of the estate’s diligent staff. Through the grand windows, Elizabeth glimpsed wreaths of ivy, rosemary, and other greenery being hung in preparation for Christmas. She could easily imagine Pemberley hosting a most splendid celebration, though the thought did little to lift her spirits as she sat opposite Mr Darcy, whose sour countenance had not altered in the slightest since their departure.
Even Georgiana, with her constant attempts to draw him into conversation, had failed to lighten his mood. Elizabeth had noted that his sister’s natural cheerfulness seemed slightly strained under the weight of his brooding presence. When the carriage finally came to a halt, Elizabeth found herself relieved to step out and take in the crisp winter air, leaving behind the stifling tension.
Georgiana, ever the attentive hostess, turned to her with a bright smile the moment she too had climbed out of her carriage. “Come, Mrs Darcy—oh, may I call you Elizabeth? We shall show you to your chambers!” Without waiting for a reply, she took Elizabeth by the arm and led her up the stone steps, her youthful energy a welcome contrast to her brother’s dour demeanour.
As they entered the grand hall, Elizabeth marvelled at the intricate mouldings, polished woodwork, and the sense of quiet dignity that seemed to pervade the place. It was clear that the house possessed a refined but understated elegance. Mr Darcy strode ahead, his long strides forcing both Georgiana and Elizabeth to quicken their pace. Suddenly, he veered sharply down a narrow side hallway, leaving his sister momentarily startled.
“Fitzwilliam, where are you going?” Georgiana called after him, her tone slightly exasperated as she hurried to catch up. Elizabeth, curious, followed just as a footman passed by, carrying one of her portmanteaux. She suspected she knew where Mr Darcy was heading.
Sure enough, she found him standing before a large dark door midway down the hall, giving brisk instructions to a housekeeper who had joined the group.
“This is our housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds,” Georgiana muttered. Before she could say anything else, Mr Darcy nodded towards the woman.
“Mrs Reynolds,” Mr Darcy said curtly, “this is Mrs Darcy.”
The housekeeper turned to Elizabeth, her face softening into a kindly smile. “Welcome to Pemberley, ma’am. It is a great honour to receive you as mistress here.”
Elizabeth inclined her head politely. “Thank you, Mrs Reynolds. Your hospitality is most appreciated.”
Mrs Reynolds beamed. “I trust you will find everything to your satisfaction, ma’am. Should there be anything amiss or if you require assistance, you have only to send word.”
Mr Darcy nodded abruptly, clearly unwilling to linger. “Please show Mrs Darcy to her chamber and ensure all of her belongings are brought to her chamber,” he instructed before turning to his sister. “She will occupy the guest quarters in the east wing, where Lady Matlock usually stays.”
Georgiana looked surprised, her brow furrowing. “But why? Those chambers are always occupied by Aunt Matlock. I thought Elizabeth would—”
“I am certain alternative accommodation can be found for Lady Matlock, there is no shortage of chambers here as you know,” Mr Darcy interrupted, his tone leaving no room for discussion.
“But Fitzwilliam,” she pressed, glancing at Elizabeth with concern. The young woman clearly wondered why they were not sharing a chamber—or at least had adjoining rooms as was more befitting a newly married couple. Elizabeth looked at her feet. She would most certainly not explain the circumstances to her. If Mr Darcy wanted to, he could. She for one was happy not to have to share a chamber with him, she had fretted about this for some while.
“I am certain whatever room is chosen will be most comfortable,” she said lightly as they walked up the sweeping staircase.
Georgiana nodded reluctantly but could not hide her dissatisfaction as Mrs Reynolds led the way to the guest room. As the housekeeper opened the door, Elizabeth stepped inside to find a spacious and warmly appointed room. The large bed was draped in fine linens, and a cheerful fire crackled in the hearth. Heavy curtains framed a window that offered a view of the snow-dusted gardens below.
“It is a most agreeable chamber,” Elizabeth said with sincerity as she took in her surroundings.
“Good,” Mr Darcy replied curtly. Without further remark, he turned on his heel and left. Georgiana hesitated, torn between following her brother and remaining with Elizabeth. After a moment, she excused herself with a soft apology and hurried after him.
Elizabeth approached the window and gazed out at the grounds, the beauty of the scene doing little to soothe her unease. This was to be her new life—isolated from her family and tethered to a man whose displeasure at their union was all too evident. Her spirits, already low, sank further at the thought of the cold reception awaiting her in the days to come.
He had yet to admit any fault nor discuss the circumstances that had led them to this point—and she was not going to be the first one to bring it up. If he had a confession to make, he had to make it of his own volition.
Georgiana soon returned, her expression tentative. “Elizabeth,” she began hesitantly then appeared to correct herself. “Mrs Darcy, I do hope you will forgive my brother. He can be rather particular at times. But I know he wishes for your comfort here, even if he struggles to express it.”
Elizabeth offered a small smile. “You are kind to think so.” She leaned forward. “And you may call me Elizabeth, and I shall call you Georgiana rather than Miss Darcy—that is if you do not mind?”
Georgiana brightened slightly, evidently eager to dispel any lingering awkwardness. “Of course not. We shall be like sisters, indeed. Now, I had thought we might explore the house together, if you are not too fatigued from the journey? There is so much to see—Pemberley has always felt to me like a world unto itself.”
Elizabeth appreciated the younger woman’s attempt to extend friendship and nodded. “I should like that very much.”
As they walked together through the winding hallways, Georgiana chattered about the history of the house and the traditions upheld by their family. Her warmth was a balm to Elizabeth’s wounded pride, though it could not entirely banish the shadow of Mr Darcy’s cold demeanour.