Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
In Which Lizzie and Darcy Arrive at Pemberley
Lizzie had been very curious about Darcy’s ancestral home, but she had not imagined that the first time she caught a glimpse
of it would be after two long days of hard travel with a broken heart and a guilty conscience weighing her down.
They’d left in the early-morning hours after the ball, after some quick hushed discussions behind closed doors. Three carriages
had been dispatched in three different directions. One went south to London, one east to the Gardiners’ home, and one north
to Pemberley. Charlotte’s and Lizzie’s trunks had been sent on the carriage bound for London, which had briefly stopped in
the woods outside the estate so the two young ladies could disembark quickly with nothing but a valise each and Guy on his
leash. They waited in the shadows, jumping at every small sound, until Darcy’s carriage came rattling by and picked them up
before whisking them north.
Lizzie had been grateful that when she had finally revealed the truth to her friend, Charlotte had opted to come with her to Pemberley rather than return to London.
She felt more at ease knowing that Charlotte was safe, but Charlotte, for her part, wasn’t very pleased that Lizzie had elected to keep her note from Lady Catherine secret.
She wasn’t so petty as to give Lizzie the cold shoulder, but she was quiet the entire journey.
And Lizzie deserved this, she knew. She had chosen selfishly, putting a case above her friends and family. She was glad she’d
been able to help the Burtons, and she could tell herself that she’d pursued the truth to help Jane, but it wasn’t entirely
true. She’d done so because she believed she’d known best.
And now she deserved the immense guilt she felt whenever she remembered Caroline shoving her to the floor seconds before the
chandelier had fallen. Caroline, of all people! She ought to have let Lizzie take the chandelier on the head while she skipped away from the danger. To be
sure, it would be Lizzie lying in a room in Netherfield, waiting to recover, but at least then the world would still make
sense.
It was late in the afternoon on their second day of travel when Darcy leaned forward and peeked out of the curtains of the
carriage. “We’re close,” he said, and there was no mistaking the eagerness in his voice.
“Thank heavens,” Charlotte murmured, waving limply at her face with her fan.
They’d endured the entire journey with the curtains closed tight against prying eyes.
Lizzie had wondered if the precaution was a bit much once they were a day away from Netherfield Park, but Darcy had remained strict, not wanting to risk anyone spotting Lizzie on her way north when she was supposed to be in London.
As a result, the air in the carriage was hot and oppressive, and even poor Guy whined softly and panted on the floorboards.
But now the carriage slowed, and Lizzie leaned forward to gather Guy’s leash as it came to a halt. “Not yet,” Darcy said.
“Stay here.”
He jumped out of the carriage and Lizzie called, “What’s the matter?” after him. But he didn’t respond, and beyond the door
she saw only woods. Lizzie and Charlotte exchanged puzzled looks. Guy sat up and gave one impatient woof.
Darcy was back after a quick conversation that Lizzie couldn’t make out. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is perfect,” he said, grinning. It was the first time Lizzie had seen him smile since the night of the ball. “I
had to speak with Travers, the gatekeeper.”
“You have a gatekeeper?” Lizzie asked, incredulous. She pulled the curtain aside, caution be damned. There was indeed a small
stone gatehouse, and an elaborate wrought-iron gate was slowly being opened. She heard hoofbeats and caught a glimpse of a
lone rider taking off ahead of them.
“I told you that my father hired men to make sure Georgie was safe,” Darcy said. “They’ll ride ahead and let the house know
we’re here.”
Lizzie was, for once, speechless. She had known that Darcy was wealthy.
She had not understood that his family estate was surrounded by a great stone wall with a gate and a gatekeeper.
Multiple gatekeepers, it seemed, judging by the fact that there was an extra man and horse ready to ride ahead and warn the household of their impending arrival.
Once they passed through the gates and Lizzie heard them clank shut behind the carriage, Darcy threw open the curtains. All
three of them blinked at the sudden light, and Guy hopped up on Lizzie’s lap, pressing his nose against the glass.
The entrance to the estate was lightly wooded, and they drove through it for some time before the land gave way to green and
gold countryside. Lizzie could feel the slight incline of the road beneath them, which added to her growing anticipation as
the carriage crested the first hill.
Lizzie gasped.
From a gap in the trees lining the lane, Pemberley loomed in the distance.
In an instant, Lizzie understood how Darcy had considered Netherfield simply “well appointed.” Pemberley, in comparison, was
palatial. It had been constructed upon a gentle rise, and it was backed by wooded hills. As they drew closer, Lizzie could
hear the insistent bubbling of the river that ran before the house. The sloping lawn between the river and the house was a
vibrant green, with a well-kept walking path that led to the water. There were no excessive adornments on the front of the
house, and the simplicity of its presentation made it all the more striking in Lizzie’s eyes. What were the creations of humankind
to the brilliance of their natural surroundings?
The carriage rolled over a stone bridge that spanned the river, and Pemberley was suddenly before them.
Lizzie could scarcely breathe, she was so taken by the wonder of the estate.
She tore her gaze away from the scene just long enough to look at Darcy.
If all of this belonged to her, she’d been drinking up the sight of home.
But Darcy wasn’t looking out the window.
He was looking at her.
“What do you think?” he asked.
Lizzie opened her mouth to respond, but words failed her. She thought it was glorious, magnificent. She wanted to know how
Darcy ever managed to leave it behind for London.
In that moment, she felt that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!
But Darcy wasn’t asking her to be mistress—he was asking her what she thought. And now even Charlotte was glancing at her
with barely suppressed amusement at her lack of speech.
“It’s truly beautiful,” she managed.
“I’m glad you think so.” Darcy’s gaze was soft, and she felt something shift inside her. But before she could dwell on it,
the carriage finally came to a halt in front of the house, and a footman opened the door.
Guy darted out, and the humans followed. Lizzie inhaled the sweet air, wanting to drink it all in. The view from the house
was even more incredible, she found, as she turned and looked at the lawn spread out before them, and the water glistened
in the sunshine. From this standpoint, one could see it wind its way through the valley like a shining ribbon.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to be out of a carriage in my life,” Charlotte remarked to her.
“Yes,” Lizzie agreed. She was still dazed. Then she looked about. “Where’s Guy? Guy!”
“He’s all right,” Darcy said, pointing to where the small dog was running happy laps in the nearby grass, dragging his leash
behind him. “He’s safe here.”
The words, although directed at Guy, stirred something in Lizzie. She felt safe here.
A butler appeared from the front door. “Sir,” he said, bowing slightly to Darcy.
“Charleston!” Darcy greeted, shaking his butler’s hand. “It’s been too long.”
“We’re very happy to see you,” the butler said, offering a sidelong glance at the ladies. “Mrs. Reynolds will be along shortly.”
“I’m sure I’ve thrown off her entire day. She needn’t worry about everything being perfect. We are just happy to be here.”
“Oh, she’ll worry,” Charleston said. “But she’s glad you’re here nonetheless. And I’m sure she won’t be the only one.”
“You’re here!” came a screech from the front door, and Lizzie saw only a blur of a girl with dark brown hair hurling herself at Darcy.
He caught her up in a giant hug and swung her around while she squealed in excitement.
Finally, Darcy set her down, and Georgiana Darcy grinned up at him.
She wore a plain day dress, and her hair fell loose in tangled, wild curls.
She shoved Darcy in jest. “Why didn’t you write and tell me you were coming?
If you wanted it to be a surprise, you managed that well. ”
“Is this what you’re getting up to while I’m away?” Darcy tossed back. “Running around, half feral? I thought your lady’s
companion would keep you civilized.”
Georgiana rolled her eyes dramatically. “Mrs. Watts is in bed with a headache, per usual. I’ve been dying for some proper
companionship, and now you’re here!” She reached out a hand to greet Lizzie warmly. “Welcome, Miss Bennet!”
“Please, at this point I feel as though you ought to call me Lizzie,” she said, squeezing the other girl’s hand. “We ought
to have come much sooner.”
Lizzie introduced Charlotte, and Georgiana welcomed her just as warmly before Darcy called Guy over. Georgiana was taken with
the dog immediately, and earned his affection by rubbing his belly and calling him handsome before Darcy suggested, with a
slightly nervous edge to his voice, that they go inside. Lizzie knew his edginess from their most recent ordeal would not
fade away quickly.
Lizzie tried not to let her gaze stray as they passed through the intimidating halls adorned with tapestries and portraits.
Georgiana chattered all the way as she led them past many formal rooms to a charming sitting room with comfortable furniture
and a pianoforte in the corner. The windows were open, letting in a light breeze, and the view overlooked the river. They
took a seat, and Guy immediately jumped up on the chair next to Georgiana.
“Guy, no,” Lizzie said.
Georgiana laughed. “He is perfectly fine on the furniture—in fact, I adore him. We’ll be best of friends, won’t we, Guy?”
The dog settled in his seat and gave Lizzie a look that seemed to say, So there. Lizzie found herself quite incapable of protesting.
“Now, how long do you intend to stay?” Georgiana asked. “Please tell me a very long time.”
Was it Lizzie’s imagination, or was there an emphasis on very long time that seemed . . . suspicious?
“I don’t know,” Darcy said. “A few weeks, at least. Perhaps longer.”
Lizzie tried to muster a smile. As beautiful as this place was, his words were a reminder of what they’d left behind, and
the reason for their visit.
“What’s the matter?” Georgiana asked.
Lizzie looked at Darcy. He winced, and said, “Well, I’m afraid things at Netherfield did not go well.”
Georgiana promptly rang for a maid. “Then we shall have tea, and you can tell me all about it.”
The last thing Lizzie wanted to do was drag Darcy’s sister into this mess, but despite being younger than Lizzie, Georgiana Darcy was no child.
After all, she’d proven herself more than capable last year in London.
And once the tea arrived—with little cakes, and even cold roast pheasant cut up into small pieces for Guy—it was easy to tell her the whole tale.
Georgiana listened, eyes wide, and interjected only a few times with clarifying questions.
Her hand flew to her mouth when she learned of Caroline’s injury, and by the time the telling was over, she was less lighthearted and more concerned.
“You absolutely did the right thing to bring her here,” Georgiana told Darcy. “Pemberley is the safest place in all the world.”
“Kew Palace might be a bit more secure, but she’s right,” Darcy told Lizzie. “You saw the stone wall coming in, and while
the grounds are large, we are fairly isolated. I already instructed the gatekeeper not to let anyone in after us. I’ll speak
with Charleston about further safety measures.”
“Thank you,” Lizzie said to both siblings. “I hate to be a bother—”
“You’re not,” Georgiana insisted. “Really, this is the most interesting thing to happen since the last time we met.”
Lizzie felt herself finally relax for a moment. The trip to Pemberley had been grim, and the shame and guilt she felt still
clung to her. But here, perhaps, she could shed some fear and begin to strategize her next move. They’d find a way to draw
out Lady Catherine without endangering any more people Lizzie cared for . . .
Suddenly, Georgiana looked uncertain. “There’s just one thing I haven’t mentioned yet, and I’m guessing since you haven’t
either, you don’t know?”
“What is it?” Darcy asked, instantly concerned.
“It’s probably nothing to worry about. I’m sure everything will be fine, and it shouldn’t impact this plan at all . . . or
rather, not too much . . .”
Lizzie and Charlotte exchanged perplexed glances, and Darcy sighed. “Just spell it out, Georgie.”
“It’s Father.” She winced as she looked at her brother’s confused expression. “I received a letter from him this morning.
He’s back in London, and he’s furious that you’re not there.”
“Father is in England?” Darcy asked. “I knew he intended to return home soon, but I thought he’d be several more weeks at
least.”
“Apparently not.” Georgiana rose and walked over to a small writing desk where she withdrew a letter with a heavy green seal,
broken. She handed it to her brother and Darcy skimmed it. It was short—Lizzie knew the elder Mr. Darcy was not known for
his loquaciousness.
Unease settled across her. Suddenly, coming to Pemberley was feeling less and less like a good idea.
“He took an earlier boat,” Darcy muttered.
“What should we do?” Lizzie asked.
“Not a thing,” Darcy said, crumpling the letter up. “I imagine he’ll find his way here soon enough. Until then, all we can
do is wait.”
Georgiana’s smile was stiff compared to what it had been just moments earlier, but she attempted to play off the awkwardness.
“Charlotte, Lizzie, tomorrow I shall show you all of Pemberley. You’ll love it here, I promise. We can have picnics along
the river and pick berries in the gardens, and oh—do you ride?”
“Not well,” Lizzie said honestly.
“All right, then we’ll leave the horses. But wait until you see the library—”
Lizzie smiled and nodded to everything Georgiana said, but her heart was racing. Darcy’s father had returned to England. He
was coming here. She’d likely encounter him in just a few days’ time.
If given the choice, she wasn’t sure whom she dreaded facing more: Lady Catherine, or Darcy’s father.