CHAPTER FIVE
ELIZABETH KNEW BEFORE she opened her eyes that the world had changed. The silence told her so—thick, muffled, absolute. Even the fire’s faint crackle sounded distant, as though the air itself were smothered in snow.
She rose softly, careful not to wake Jane, and crossed to the window. The storm had raged through the night, sweeping over the hills until every shape was lost beneath white. Trees bent under their burden, the garden paths had vanished, and even the river lay hidden beneath ice.
By the time the sisters descended to the east parlour, the family was already gathered. The fire blazed high, yet the room still felt touched by morning chill. Mrs Gardiner sat close to the warmth, wringing her hands.
“My poor children,” she murmured. “They will be frightened to find us so long delayed.”
Mr Gardiner stood by the hearth, calm as ever. “Mrs Willis will manage perfectly well, my dear. The storm cannot last forever.”
Mrs Bennet turned from the window. “Forever or not, we cannot stir a step in this! We are buried alive!”
“Then let us be patient prisoners,” said Mr Bennet placidly. “If one must be confined, it might as well be in comfort.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly, though unease pricked beneath it. To remain snowbound under the same roof as Mr Darcy was a trial she had not yet learnt to meet with composure.
A knock came, and Mrs Reynolds entered. “Good morning, madam,” she said to Mrs Gardiner. “Mr Darcy begs to know if you rested well. He laments the weather and entreats you to feel entirely at home.”
Mrs Gardiner thanked her warmly.
Mrs Bennet, recovering her spirits, declared, “Oh, to think—we are snowed in at Pemberley! I can hardly regret it.”
Mrs Reynolds smiled and withdrew.
Moments later, Darcy himself appeared. After pleasantries were exchanged, he said, "I fear the roads are impassable. My men attempted the lower drive at dawn and could not reach the gate."
Mrs Gardiner sighed. “Then we are truly confined.”
“I am sorry for it,” he said, “though I cannot regret the company it has brought me. Pemberley is wholly at your disposal until the storm passes.”
Mrs Bennet beamed. “How very handsome that sounds! At your disposal—why, Mr Darcy, you make confinement sound a favour.”
“We are obliged for your kindness, sir.” Elizabeth said.
“You owe me no thanks, Miss Elizabeth. I am only glad the house is of use.”
Voices came from the corridor; Miss Bingley entered with Mrs Hurst on her arm, both faultlessly dressed and curtsying gracefully before the company.
“How early we all are,” said Miss Bingley brightly. “The storm is most inconvenient—I had thought you would be on your way to Lambton by now.”
“So had we,” Elizabeth said evenly. “But the weather has taken its own counsel.”
Mrs Hurst gave a light laugh. “Yes, if you had left last night, you might have reached Lambton before the worst began.”
Bingley, having followed them in, bowed to the party and said with some warmth, "Caroline, Louisa—Darcy’s guests have endured quite enough of the storm without enduring our speculation as well.
Far better they remain here among friends than find themselves stranded at some frozen inn.
" His eyes turned to Jane, his expression softening. "Miss Bennet, I hope you slept well."
She smiled shyly. “Perfectly, thank you.”
“Then I am glad indeed.”
Darcy addressed the room. "Since breakfast must be delayed while the servants clear the paths, perhaps the time might be better spent in a short tour indoors. If it would please the ladies, I should be happy to show you more of the house."
Mrs Bennet clapped her hands. "A tour of Pemberley! How charming!"
"Pray do not trouble yourself, sir," Elizabeth said quickly. "You have already shown my aunt, my uncle, and me everything worth seeing when we came during the summer."
"It is no trouble," he said. "Pemberley wears a different face in winter."
"You may have seen Pemberley," Mrs Bennet chided her, "but I and the other girls have not. We shall gladly accept, if you will not."
Mr Bennet observed mildly, "I confess I am curious to see if the winter face of Pemberley includes a well-stocked library. I find architecture vastly improved by the presence of books."
Darcy's mouth curved slightly. "The library is perhaps Pemberley's best feature in any season, Mr Bennet. I shall be pleased to show it to you."
And there was no refusing him.
The party followed through the great hall, the hush deepened by the muffling snow outside. Darcy spoke little, but when he did his voice was clear and composed. To her family every room was new; to Elizabeth, each seemed changed by the season.
“This was my father’s study,” he said, pausing before a panelled chamber lined with books.
“A man of good sense, I imagine,” said Mr Bennet.
“The best I ever knew,” Darcy replied quietly.
Darcy paused before a door from which the soft notes of a pianoforte drifted. “My sister is usually the first to rise,” he said with a half-smile. “She is not accustomed to so full a household, so she spends the early hours here, playing before anyone else is awake.”
He pushed the door gently open. Georgiana sat at the instrument, her back to them, the pale morning light falling over her hair. At the sound, she started, then rose quickly and curtsied. “Brother! I did not know everyone was already awake and about.”
Elizabeth smiled at the innocence of her confession.
Darcy’s manner softened. “You play beautifully, as always. I was taking our guests through a small part of the house—so far as one may venture in this cold.” Then, glancing toward Elizabeth, he added with quiet amusement, “Miss Elizabeth, you must be persuaded to play for us soon.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, lifting a brow. “You have heard me play before, sir, and you know how poorly I manage. It is my sister Mary who is the accomplished performer.”
Mary, suddenly the object of every eye, straightened with visible effort.
“Then I hope she will favour us,” said Darcy courteously.
“I shall endeavour not to disappoint,” Mary replied, colouring a little.
A few more words were exchanged, and then Darcy led the party onward. Their last stop was the library—vast, warm, and filled with the scent of polished wood and leather. Even having seen it before, Elizabeth was struck anew by its stillness and grace.
“My father’s pride,” Darcy said quietly. “He called books the surest companions of a contented mind.”
He paused beside a small alcove where several well-worn volumes stood. “These were my mother’s. She loved poetry best.”
Elizabeth’s voice softened. “Then you keep her memory well.”
Before he could reply, a pleasant baritone sounded from the doorway.
“Ah, Darcy! I heard you had rescued some guests from the storm in the most agreeable fashion.”
Elizabeth turned with the others. A tall, fair gentleman stood there, smiling with an ease that seemed born of habit. His eyes—light blue and touched with amusement—lingered on her a moment longer than politeness required.
“Captain Ashford,” said Darcy evenly, inclining his head. “You are recovered, then.”
Ashford gave a rueful half-laugh. “Entirely. I fear something at breakfast yesterday did not quite agree with me. Fitzwilliam will tell you I have never been equal to rich sauces.”
“So I heard,” Darcy replied. His tone was civil, though the faintest coolness edged it.
“Entirely my own fault, I assure you,” Ashford continued lightly. “But a night’s rest and Pemberley’s air have done wonders.”
Darcy turned to face the party behind him. “Captain Thomas Ashford—an officer of my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam’s regiment, and for the present our guest at Pemberley. Mr and Mrs Bennet, Mrs and Miss Gardiner, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, and their sisters.”
Ashford bowed gracefully. “A pleasure, I assure you.” His eyes found Elizabeth’s and lingered with unmistakable warmth. “Miss Elizabeth, I hope you find Pemberley as fine within as without.”
Elizabeth returned the courtesy. “It is my second time visiting, but it is still more beautiful than I remembered, sir.”
“Then my envy is twofold,” he said lightly. “First, that you have had the pleasure before, and second, that Pemberley can inspire such admiration on a second acquaintance. You must thank its master—he is far too modest to admit how much of its grace is his own.”
Darcy’s tone was mild but tight. “You are too generous, Captain.”
Ashford smiled faintly. “I am only just.”
Mr Bennet, sensing the need for neutral ground, asked a question about the age of the house, and conversation resumed with polite ease. Yet Elizabeth could not help noticing how little Darcy spoke thereafter—or how deliberately his gaze avoided Captain Ashford.
When at last they descended toward the lower corridor, Mrs Reynolds appeared to announce that breakfast was served. The scent of coffee and fresh bread drifted warmly from the room beyond.
As Elizabeth followed her family inside, she felt an odd quickening in her chest. The snow might have sealed the roads, but she suspected it was not the storm alone that made escape impossible.
***
When The Bennets withdrew to prepare for breakfast, the house fell back into its morning stillness.
The echo of their voices faded down the corridor, and only the faint crackle of the fire remained.
Darcy lingered behind a moment longer, uncertain whether it was the storm outside or something within that unsettled him more.
He turned toward the music room. Through the half-open door came a soft succession of notes, hesitant and sweet. Georgiana still sat at the pianoforte, her back to him, unaware of his presence until he stepped inside.
“Brother!” she exclaimed, rising at once. “I thought you were with your guests.”
“I was,” he said, closing the door gently behind him. “They have gone to change before breakfast. I wished to speak with you first.”
She regarded him with mild curiosity. “It must be important, for you to come in search of me.”
“It is.” He paused. “You know the storm has worsened. The Bennets and the Gardiners must remain here until the roads clear.”
“I expected as much,” Georgiana said softly.
“No carriage could hope to move in such weather. Still, I am glad they are safe here. Poor Mrs Gardiner seems quite anxious about her children, but she is well taken care of.” A faint, knowing smile touched her lips.
“And you, I think, are not sorry to have Miss Elizabeth under your roof again.”
Darcy gave a quiet, helpless laugh. “You have grown too perceptive for my comfort.”
“I remember how warmly you spoke of her after her last visit,” she continued gently. “She is very different from other ladies, isn’t she? She looks at one as if she truly sees.”
“She does,” he said simply, then added, with a faint shake of his head, “which is sometimes the greater trial.”
Georgiana’s smile softened, but when he did not return it, her expression grew more serious. “Something troubles you, then.”
“Yes.” He drew a long breath. “There is a matter you must hear from me before we go down. I would rather you were not taken by surprise.”
She stilled, her hands clasped before her. “Go on.”
“You remember Wickham?”
Her colour faltered, though she nodded. “I could hardly forget, brother.”
"He joined the militia in Hertfordshire.
" He hesitated, seeing his sister's face grow pale, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
His tone softened considerably. "I learned of this during my time there, but did not wish to cause you further pain by revealing his whereabouts.
While stationed in Meryton, he formed an attachment to one of Miss Elizabeth's younger sisters.
They left together without the benefit of marriage. "
Georgiana gasped softly.
“I found them in London,” Darcy continued. “With Mr Gardiner’s assistance, a marriage was arranged. It spared the family public disgrace. The lady was Miss Lydia Bennet.”
“Lydia?” Georgiana repeated, almost in disbelief. “The youngest?”
He inclined his head gravely. “Yes. She is now Mrs Wickham.”
A long silence fell between them. Georgiana’s gaze dropped to the keys of the pianoforte.
"I thought it best that you should hear it from me before the matter arises in conversation.
I would have told you yesterday when they arrived, but I had hoped they would remain only one night and there would be no need to address it.
" He paused, then added more quietly, "Georgiana, I know how this must pain you, but I must ask you to remain civil in her presence.
No one knows anything of my part in the affair, nor of what happened with. .. with you. Nor must they ever know."
Georgiana drew a steadying breath and lifted her eyes to his. "You need not fear for me, Brother. I shall behave with every civility due to her. But I am sorry for Miss Elizabeth. How very hard this must be for her."
“It is not easy for either of us,” he said quietly.
The breakfast bell sounded in the distance.
Georgiana gathered herself, smoothing her sleeve with composed hands. “Then we must go down and meet the day as best we can. And I shall remember what you told me.”
Darcy offered her his arm, but she shook her head with a small smile. “Go on, brother. I will follow in a moment.”
He inclined his head and left her to her thoughts.