CHAPTER TWO #2
Elizabeth’s breath tightened. Something in that brief exchange struck her with sudden force.
Others in the room saw nothing beyond civility, yet she understood the moment too well.
To hear her sister addressed by that name, and to see Darcy bear it with such composed restraint, struck her with unexpected force.
For a heartbeat the air seemed to shift about her, as though all the unspoken history between them pressed close and could not be ignored.
When the courtesies had been properly exchanged, he turned back to her, his movements gentler now, as though something beyond his will compelled the return.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, and his voice, though quiet, held a softness that unsettled her. “I confess myself surprised. I had no notion you were anywhere near Derbyshire.”
Elizabeth curtsied, willing her hands not to tremble.
“Thank you, sir. We came to London only a few days ago, and my aunt was eager to show my family a little of the countryside. We reached Lambton this afternoon, and hoped only to see Pemberley before returning there for the night. The snow made the road slower than we expected.”
He inclined his head. For a heartbeat she felt the weight of his regard, warm and intent, and her heart beat so rapidly she thought it must be visible.
Mr Bingley then came forward. His step was as eager as ever, but his manner faltered when his gaze met Jane’s.
“Miss Bennet,” he began, then stopped, swallowed, and tried again. “It is a very great pleasure to see you again.”
Jane coloured, the blush breaking and receding as she looked down, unable to meet his eye. Her curtsy, though graceful, wavered at the edges.
“We… we are happy to see you as well, Mr Bingley.”
He drew a breath, his eyes resting on her with an earnestness that made Elizabeth’s own heart ache.
“I had thought—circumstances kept me longer in town than I intended.” His glance flickered for an instant towards Darcy, then returned to Jane.
“I hope you will believe, ma’am, that I did not forget the kindness I met with in your neighbourhood. ”
Jane’s lashes dipped, and though she did not reply at once, the softened expression of her countenance told Elizabeth all she needed to know.
Mrs Bennet could bear no more.
“Oh, Mr Bingley, what a delightful surprise,” she cried. “I knew you would not remain away from the country for ever. I told Mr Bennet only this morning that you would soon return, though he insisted you would not.”
Mr Bennet raised his brows. “I merely hinted that prophecies formed without evidence have a dangerous tendency to disappoint, my dear.”
Mrs Bennet waved this away. “Nonsense. And now you see I was quite right. Here is Mr Bingley in the very house with us.”
Bingley coloured, half pleased, half embarrassed, and looked as though he would gladly have been spared such public triumph.
Mr Gardiner stepped forward then, his manner warm yet measured. “Mr Darcy, we are much obliged to you for receiving us, particularly in such weather. The snow worsened sooner than we anticipated.”
Darcy met his eye with quiet understanding. “You are very welcome, sir. I am glad you are safely within doors.”
Before Elizabeth could gather her scattered thoughts, a gentle knock sounded at the door. Mrs Reynolds entered with an apologetic curtsey.
“Mr Darcy, forgive the interruption. The gamekeeper and the shepherd have come in from the north fields. They say the wind has shifted sharply to the north-east, and the sky has that look. Jenkins swears he has not seen it since the winter of ninety-five, sir.”
A small uneasiness stirred among them.
“Thank you, Mrs Reynolds,” Darcy said. “I shall speak with Jenkins directly.”
She withdrew, leaving a faint silence behind her.
Darcy turned back to the company. “I fear the weather is worsening more quickly than we anticipated. The storm is rising in the north fields and drifting southward. If it reaches the lower roads, the way back to Lambton may soon become dangerous.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught. Her heart seemed to rise and sink at once.
Mrs Gardiner, who had been listening with anxious attention, spoke first. “We left the children in London, Mr Darcy. I own myself very desirous of returning to them soon.”
Darcy bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. “I understand your concern, madam. Yet I cannot, in good conscience, advise you to attempt the road in such a wind. A drifting snowbank is treacherous, and the lanes near Lambton are narrow and exposed.”
Mrs Gardiner hesitated, her hand tightening on the arm of her chair. “We had hoped to be back in London within the next three days.”
“And so you may be,” Darcy answered gently. “If the storm eases overnight, you might set out in the morning, and, travelling steadily, still reach London by Christmas Eve. But today, I do not consider it safe for you to venture out again.”
There was a brief pause before Mr Gardiner spoke. “Your judgment has always been sound, sir. We shall defer to it. The safety of the ladies must come first.”
Darcy turned toward the doorway, where Mrs Reynolds had discreetly reappeared. “Mrs Reynolds, pray have rooms prepared for our guests. Whatever they require, see that it is provided.”
“Certainly, sir,” she said with a pleased smile, and withdrew once more.
Mr Bennet cleared his throat. “I hope, Mr Darcy, that we are not imposing upon you. Mrs Reynolds let fall that you have several guests already staying here.”
Darcy’s expression softened. “Pray do not trouble yourself, sir. Pemberley has room for all.”
Kitty’s eyes grew round. “How many rooms are there, Mr Darcy?”
“The main house holds more than forty chambers,” he replied, without ostentation, “and there are several cottages and lodges upon the estate besides. Even with our present company, we are in no danger of being crowded.”
Mrs Bennet clasped her hands with delight. “How exceedingly comfortable. I declare, I can imagine no pleasanter misfortune than to be snowed up at Pemberley.”
Mr Bennet gave her a look of dry amusement. “My dear, let us at least pretend reluctance, if only for form’s sake.”
There was a general murmur of laughter. Elizabeth, however, could scarcely join it.
The strangeness of the situation pressed upon her.
Here she sat at Pemberley, beneath Mr Darcy’s roof, with a storm gathering outside that might hold them there.
His kindness, his composure, his quiet care for their safety—all these combined to stir every feeling she had tried so earnestly to govern.
Thankfully, Mr Gardiner moved a little nearer to Darcy, pulling her from the tangle of her thoughts. He spoke so quietly that only Elizabeth, standing close beside him, could have heard his words.
“Mr Darcy, your hospitality is more generous than I can express. My family owes you… more than I am permitted to say.”
As he spoke, his glance shifted briefly toward Lydia, who continued to chatter to Kitty without the smallest awareness. Elizabeth felt a tightness stir in her chest. Mr Gardiner’s meaning was unmistakable, though his restraint was perfect.
Darcy’s reply was quiet but firm. “You owe me nothing, sir.”
The simplicity of the words carried a weight Elizabeth felt far more deeply than she wished.
Darcy then addressed the room. “You must all be fatigued from your travels. Allow Mrs Reynolds to show you to your chambers. You will find them warmer than the roads have been, I hope. When you are rested, I shall be glad to wait upon you again.”
Mrs Bennet thanked him with delighted animation. Kitty exclaimed over the thought of sleeping in a house with so many rooms. Lydia declared she meant to see every inch of the place before morning, drawing a disapproving look from Mary.
Bingley lingered behind Darcy, and Elizabeth watched him with a faint uneasiness she had not expected. Something in his manner seemed unsettled, as though he hardly knew how to stand or breathe in Jane’s presence. His eyes found her again.
“Miss Bennet,” he said softly, “I hope your rooms will be comfortable.”
Jane managed a weak smile. “Thank you, sir.”
Bingley seemed about to say more, but the moment slipped from him. He bowed and stepped back, his expression tightening as though regret pressed close upon him.
Meanwhile, Mrs Bennet, eager to show proper gratitude, stepped forward with a flutter of hands.
“Mr Darcy, we were quite astonished when Lydia returned to us and said you had been at her wedding. I assure you we would have gone ourselves, only everything happened so suddenly that my nerves were quite overset. We are most obliged to you for attending, sir.”
“Indeed, sir, your presence was more than the family had any right to expect.” Mr Bennet added, with quiet dryness.
Elizabeth pressed her lips together. Their innocence, though kindly meant, pricked her sharply. If they knew the truth of what Darcy had done, they would not speak with such simplicity.
Darcy inclined his head to Mr Bennet in farewell.
As he did so, the firelight caught the lines of his face, and Elizabeth felt a warm rush of confusion stir within her.
She had asked herself a hundred times why he had not returned to Hertfordshire.
She had wondered the same of Bingley. She had turned those questions over and over until they seemed worn smooth.
And now here they both stood. Here, at Pemberley. Before her.
For a moment anger flickered through her, sharp and bewildering.
Yet it melted almost at once. How could she cling to resentment when Darcy’s quiet composure, his evident feeling so carefully reined, left her so wholly disarmed.
He looked handsomer than she remembered, the cold lending colour to his cheeks, and something in his eyes when they had met hers had unsettled her entirely.
He bowed to the company and withdrew, Bingley following him with one last, aching glance at Jane.
Silence hovered in their wake as Mrs Reynolds promised to return and conduct them to their rooms. Elizabeth remained where she stood, her hand resting lightly upon the back of a chair.
Her whole world felt turned upon its axis.
Two men whose absence had once caused her pain, whose silence she had struggled to forgive, now stood beneath the same roof with her.
Their presence had stirred every question she had tried so hard to quiet.
All the thoughts she had folded away rose again with renewed force, and not one of them could be spoken aloud.
A strange tumult seized her. She did not know whether she wished the snow to cease at once and release her from the nearness of truths she feared to face, or to continue falling until every road in Derbyshire lay buried and there could be no escape from the feelings she had long denied.
Outside, the wind sighed against the glass. The snow thickened, soft and ceaseless, as though the world beyond the windows were being slowly erased.