Chapter 2 #2
They drove to the door, and whilst examining the nearer aspect of Pemberley’s tall columns, fine stonework, and many windows, all of her apprehensions about seeing its owner doubled.
The carriage stopped, and a footman opened the door and folded out the steps.
The Hursts’ carriage was in front of theirs, and Elizabeth drew back from the side-glass enough so all she could see was a long pair of legs descending the stairs to greet them.
She heard his voice, welcoming the Hursts and Miss Bingley with his usual reserve, then a markedly warmer tone as he welcomed Bingley and congratulated him on his marriage.
I cannot hide in here for two weeks. Never had her embarrassment and her hesitation been more extreme or distressing as it was when she descended the carriage.
Pemberley was a mental sanctuary when he was gone from it, and after only one evening at home, Darcy had begun to feel better.
Greeting Bingley naturally reminded him of his own errors, and he was grateful that Bingley had forgiven him.
He ought to show Mrs Bingley every courtesy because it was her due, but also because Bingley may have told her his role in separating them. I have much to make up for.
After receiving his kind welcome, Mrs Bingley deigned to offer her hand, and Darcy took it gratefully. She was not so mean as to resent the past, if she knew what he had done. “I am very pleased you accepted my invitation. Please come into the—”
Another woman descended the carriage, slowly, and with her head down and her bonnet concealing most of her face.
He did not need her to lift it because he recognised the pleasing figure, the purple pelisse she had worn whilst walking Rosings park, the tan gloves he had last seen when he passed an envelope into them.
And yet as his mind considered these facts, Darcy’s heart still stopped and his stomach plummeted when she raised her head and he looked into Elizabeth’s eyes.
Her manner was nervous. When she looked on him, her shoulders fell and she opened her lips but said nothing. Her cheeks were pink, and he felt his own grow warm. She looked terribly embarrassed, and he felt hardly composed himself.
“Mr Darcy? Mr Darcy?” Mrs Bingley linked an arm through her sister’s. “I am afraid that Charles was not as clear in his letters as he could have been. When he said his sisters would join him, well, you can imagine how he thinks of Lizzy as his sister, especially since she is living with us.”
He looked at Mrs Bingley, but was not ready with an answer.
“I did tell you that Lizzy was at Netherfield,” Bingley added, his voice raising in question.
He must say something, speak politely, acknowledge the woman who—rightfully, painfully—rejected his hand. Do not betray what you feel to everyone present.
“Miss Bennet, I—you are . . . I welcome you to Pemberley.” He stretched out a hand to take hers, but she curtseyed instead. Swallowing thickly, he then said, “I did not know you were travelling with the Bingleys.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together and nodded, looking anywhere but at him. “Thank you for allowing me to stay,” she whispered.
Did she think him so resentful that he would turn her out? He had to act civilly, to show her that she was welcome, but every idea failed him. Darcy remembered the others, and said to them all, “It is not raining at the moment, but I daresay you would all still like to come into the house.”
He escorted them inside, with Miss Bingley taking his arm, and he realised that Elizabeth entered last, and alone. He turned to look at her as they crossed the entrance hall, but her eyes were drawn up to the plasterwork on the ceiling.
“Are the others here?” Miss Bingley asked him. He nodded. “Did Mrs Lanyon leave her friends after all to join us on our travels to Scarborough?”
“Mrs Lanyon joined Balfour and Utterson, and they arrived this morning with Georgiana and Mrs Annesley. Georgiana is desirous of seeing you again and meeting your new sister.”
Miss Bingley made a noncommittal sound. Clearly, she had not changed her opinion of Jane Bennet, unless she was irritated at the presence of Mrs Lanyon. He knew she would prefer it if Mrs Lanyon—a wealthy, eligible woman near to his own age—had gone elsewhere this summer.
Who would be the recipient of Miss Bingley’s jealousy: Mrs Lanyon for having a fortune and for being the sister of his friend, or Elizabeth since she witnessed his admiration of her last autumn?
It would likely be Mrs Lanyon, because Miss Bingley would not see any signs of his previous admiration for Elizabeth.
He could hardly distress Elizabeth further by showing her any warm approval that might hint to his regard.
Do I still hold her in regard?
He tried to look at her, to see if she appeared at ease, but Miss Bingley tugged on his arm. “I hope I shall see dear Miss Darcy before dinner,” Miss Bingley said heavily.
“Perhaps after you have all seen your rooms and washed off the dust from the road, the ladies can meet in the saloon. Balfour and Utterson have cried off to go fishing, even though I told them they would miss the pleasure of greeting Bingley’s bride.
Although I am certain he has written at length on your merits.
” He gave Mrs Bingley a smile, and was relieved that she returned it.
“Your family have all stayed before, madam, and will know what chamber is to be theirs. I shall leave it to Bingley to show you.”
Darcy then realised the housekeeper did not know Elizabeth had arrived. As the others filed out, he gestured the footman by the door to come near. “Find Mrs Reynolds and tell her that another bed must be made up.”
Elizabeth looked miserably wretched, and he felt guilty at being the cause of her pain.
Despite what happened at Hunsford, he could not have her think that she was unwelcome in his home.
“So long as you do not mind being farther from Mrs Bingley, I shall have one of the principal bedrooms opened and aired in a few minutes. I believe it has a four-poster and new bed curtains. You do not mind that the furniture was not polished this morning? It shall be done tomorrow, of course.”
He stopped his unimportant rambling and felt all the awkwardness of their situation. How could he have imagined when he awoke this morning that he would chance upon being alone with Elizabeth?
After a stretch of silence she said, without looking at him, “A daybed will suffice. Perhaps a sofa in the library.” She tried to smile.
“It is no trouble. Just because you were not expected . . . there is plenty of room.” He turned away to hide a wince. He now sounded boastful, rather than welcoming. How am I to show her that I attended to her reproofs if I say such things?
“Mr Darcy? I am all gratitude to you for your kindness to Jane.” Darcy looked at her, and before he could refute anything remarkable in his notice of her sister, she added, “And your notice of me. You cannot have wanted, let alone expected to find me to be one of the party. I am certain the sight of me must be . . . distressing. What you must have felt when—”
“I assure you I felt only surprise.” She pressed her lips together and looked away. “You—so—your sister said you did not know that you would be staying at Pemberley?”
She shook her head. “Until this morning, I thought we were staying at the home of Mr Utterson, and Jane thought we would be at the home of Mr Balfour.” Elizabeth looked around the room, shaking her head.
“You appear unhappy, Miss Bennet,” he said softly. “I assure you that you are welcome at Pemberley.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He was very much concerned with the idea of making her stay at Pemberley a pleasant one. “You are naturally a cheerful person, and I hope that the next fortnight will pass happily for you.”
She tried to brighten, and she finally looked him in the eye. “Yes, I am determined to be happy and cheerful in whatever situation I may be. Happiness or misery depends on our dispositions as well as our circumstances, after all.”
“Misery!” he cried. The idea of staying at Pemberley, at spending a fortnight in my company, makes her miserable?
He had thought it was merely overwhelming surprise that caused her distress, that the awkward moment might be passed over and he could be secure in the knowledge that his civility would be noticed, that she might think better of him.
“I, no, I hardly meant . . . I am sorry—”
Mrs Reynolds entered the hall, and Darcy gave her a nod to show that he had seen her.
She waited by the door, and he turned back to Elizabeth.
It would be a long and difficult fortnight, but he would show her that her admonitions at Hunsford had worked a change.
Any other wishes were best to be disregarded.
“Let us hope,” he said so only she could hear, “that since they are not a permanent situation for you, neither my company nor my home should occasion misery to you.”
He bowed and left her to the care of the housekeeper, more wounded than he had a right to feel.
Elizabeth had been placed in a yellow bedroom, with Chinese paper, mahogany furniture, and silk drapery on the bed.
It was like the other rooms she had seen into today, lofty and handsome, with furniture suitable to Darcy’s fortune.
Words like “beautiful” and “charming” failed to do justice to Pemberley’s merits.
But more striking than the house or the grounds was Darcy’s manner. He showed particular notice to Jane, and he was concerned for Elizabeth’s happiness whilst at Pemberley. Elizabeth felt amazed that he should even speak to her.