CHAPTER TWO
BY THE TIME the carriages turned into the long drive of Pemberley, the snow had begun to fall more thickly.
What had started as a light, drifting shower now lay in a soft, whitening layer upon the road, and the low afternoon sun shone dimly through a pale haze.
The firs that bordered the approach were heavy with snow, their dark boughs bending beneath its weight, and the lawns that swept toward the house were muffled in quiet stillness.
Elizabeth leaned forward, her gloved hand against the cold glass.
Although she had seen Pemberley before in all the warmth and colour of summer, the sight of it now took her breath.
The terraces were edged in white, the stream that wound before the house moved sluggishly beneath a thin crust of ice, and the tall windows glowed faintly through the dim afternoon light.
Smoke rose pale and steady from several chimneys, giving the whole scene the look of a quiet, self-contained world.
Kitty pressed close beside her. “Only look at the size of it. I had no notion anything could be so fine.”
Lydia tossed her curls. “Wickham always said Pemberley was a place where one must behave beautifully every moment, or risk displeasing someone. I cannot imagine anything more tiresome.”
Mary, who had been observing the house with serene composure, replied, “If one must behave well in a place, Lydia, it is usually because the company merits it.”
She rubbed her hands together, warming them. “And I suppose an estate of this size must possess very good fireplaces.”
Lydia gave a little sniff. “Fireplaces are all very well, but I prefer a house where one may laugh without being frowned upon for it.”
Jane, smiling, touched Mary’s arm. “I am sure Pemberley is quite equal to your expectations, Mary.”
The carriages drew to a halt before the wide stone steps, and the sisters descended into the cold air. Each breath rose visibly before them. Mr. Gardiner handed down his wife with affectionate care, while Mr. Bennet surveyed the facade with gentle amusement.
“Upon my word,” he said, “I suspect our little house in Hertfordshire may be humbled.”
Mrs. Bennet clasped her shawl more tightly. “La, Mr. Bennet, only look at it. I knew it would be handsome, but this... why, it is magnificent. There must be more windows here than in the whole of Meryton.”
Kitty nodded eagerly. “And look how the snow makes it shine.”
Lydia shrugged. “It is only a house, Kitty.”
Elizabeth exchanged a look with Jane, but neither replied.
At that moment the great door opened, and several servants hurried across the snowy drive.
At their head came a neat, well-favoured woman of middle years, her cap touched with flakes and her manner brisk despite the cold.
There was a steadiness in her step and a cheerful composure in her countenance that Elizabeth remembered at once.
It was Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper she had met in the summer, and the sight of that familiar, kindly face brought Elizabeth an unexpected sense of ease amidst her uncertainty.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner,” she exclaimed warmly. “What a pleasure to see you again. We had no notice of visitors today.” Her gaze moved to Elizabeth, and her eyes softened. “Miss Bennet, how very good it is to see you once more, and your sisters as well.”
Kitty curtsied with shy eagerness, Mary and Jane bowed their heads with grave propriety, and Lydia smiled as though accepting admiration that was her due.
Elizabeth returned Mrs. Reynolds’s warm greeting, though her pulse quickened.
“We had not meant to intrude,” she said gently.
“We were passing through Lambton and wished to show my family the house and grounds. I hope we do not inconvenience you.”
“Inconvenience? Not in the least, miss,” Mrs. Reynolds replied with friendly composure. “You could not have chosen a prettier afternoon, though the snow is falling faster every moment. Pray, come in and warm yourselves. The fire is lit in the east parlour, and I shall have tea sent in directly.”
Mr. Gardiner stepped forward with his pleasant manner. “Mrs. Reynolds, it is a pleasure to see you again. I perceive Pemberley continues to flourish under your care.”
She curtsied, clearly pleased. “You are very kind, sir. Only...” She paused and glanced toward the house. “It surprises me that the master did not mention your coming. I spoke with him this morning, and he said nothing of expecting guests.”
Elizabeth felt the world hold still. “The master?” she repeated softly.
“Mr. Darcy, of course,” Mrs. Reynolds said, quite unaware of the effect her words produced.
Elizabeth found her voice, though it sounded faint to her own ears. “I must be mistaken, yet I am almost certain he mentioned spending Christmas in Kent when last we spoke in the summer.”
“So he intended, miss,” Mrs. Reynolds replied.
“But he changed his plans last month. He returned to Pemberley some days ago, and the house has been unusually full ever since. Miss Darcy is here, and several friends and relations have come from town for the season. It has been a pleasure to see the place so lively.”
Elizabeth’s heart gave a painful throb. Darcy, here. She turned instinctively to Jane, whose eyes shone with sudden, uncertain hope.
“Friends?” Jane asked, scarcely above a whisper.
Mrs. Reynolds smiled. “Yes, miss. The house has not been so full in years.”
Kitty’s eyes widened. “How delightful. Do you think we shall see them?”
“Wickham knows half the gentlemen who were brought up in this neighbourhood,” Lydia announced proudly. “He has spoken of them so often that I shall feel quite acquainted with them, even if they have never heard of me.”
Mrs. Reynolds gave Lydia a brief, unreadable look, polite but touched with something cooler, before replying with steady civility, “I am sure, madam, that the gentlemen of the house will present themselves in due time.”
Mary murmured, “I should think, Lydia, that modest reserve is the better introduction in a house not one’s own.”
Mr. Bennet coughed softly, perhaps to conceal a smile.
Behind them came the neigh of the second carriage’s horses as the wind stirred the falling snow, followed by Mrs. Bennet’s animated call. “Do let us go in before I perish from cold.”
Mrs. Reynolds laughed kindly. “Pray, come in, madam. The fire will do you good. I shall send word to Mr. Darcy that you are arrived.”
Elizabeth opened her lips to protest, but Mr. Gardiner spoke first. “We are greatly obliged. Only tell Mr. Darcy that we did not mean to trouble his household. The snow will settle soon enough, and we shall continue our way.”
“Very good, sir,” Mrs. Reynolds replied, offering another curtsy. “But I am sure he will wish to pay his respects. Mr. Darcy never forgets a friend of the family.”
A faint colour rose in Elizabeth’s cheeks. Friend of the family. How strangely the words sounded now, knowing all that he had done.
The great doors stood open, warm air drifting out into the falling snow. Elizabeth hesitated upon the threshold, her heart in tumult. She had never expected to cross this door again, least of all with Mr. Darcy within. Yet there it was before her, bright and welcoming, as though waiting.
***
The East Parlour at Pemberley glowed with warmth, the fire crackling brightly upon the hearth and casting soft light upon garlands of evergreen laid along the mantel.
Mrs. Bennet exclaimed at once over the fineness of the furnishings, Kitty whispered her admiration of the delicate mouldings, and Lydia drifted to a nearby pier glass to admire her reflection.
Elizabeth settled near Jane, trying to quiet the restless flutter within her.
Darcy was somewhere in the house. The knowledge unsettled her breath and set her heart beating far too quickly.
A maid soon entered, carrying a polished urn and a small silver coffee pot upon a neatly arranged tray. Steam rose pleasantly as she set them on the table near the fire and curtsied before beginning to pour.
Mrs. Bennet brightened at once. “How exceedingly comfortable. Hot tea is the very thing after such a journey.”
Kitty accepted her cup with shy delight, and Mary received hers with solemn gratitude. Lydia took a biscuit and declared it “vastly superior to Longbourn’s,” while Mrs. Bennet praised the maid’s neat movements with equal enthusiasm.
Mr. Bennet, watching the young woman’s efficient manner, said in a low tone, “Mrs. Reynolds must run her staff with admirable discipline. Hill would faint to see such order.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly, though her heart remained unsteady. The fire crackled, the urn hissed softly, and for a few moments the family spoke in cheerful murmurs, warming themselves and remarking upon the room’s comfort.
Just as Elizabeth lifted her cup, willing her hands not to tremble, a sound drifted from the passage beyond.
A murmur of masculine voices sounded in the corridor. Footsteps approached. The latch turned.
Elizabeth felt every muscle still.
The door opened, and Mr. Darcy entered the room with Mr. Bingley beside him.
Elizabeth rose at once, scarcely aware she had done so.
For one suspended instant Darcy stood quite still, his eyes fixed upon her. Surprise, vivid and unmistakable, crossed his face before he mastered it. Then, recollecting himself, he bowed to the room with proper composure.
“Mr and Mrs Bennet, welcome. I trust the journey did not fatigue you excessively. Miss Bennet, Miss Mary, Miss Catherine, I hope you are quite recovered from the cold.” His gaze moved on with calm propriety. “Mrs Gardiner, Mr Gardiner, it is very good to see you again.”
At last his eyes settled on Lydia. His bow remained impeccably polite, yet Elizabeth could not mistake the touch of reserve in it. “Mrs Wickham.”
Lydia smiled brightly. “How do you do, Mr Darcy.”
A shadow crossed Darcy’s features, swift and controlled, and he returned her greeting with only the slightest inclination of his head.