Chapter 5 #3
Her heart fluttered at the thought of an hour alone with Darcy.
He deserves to be thanked for what he did for me and my family after Hunsford.
He exposed Wickham’s lies not only to her, but to her father to safeguard all of the ladies in her neighbourhood, and he confessed his interference to Bingley and sent him back to Jane, to say nothing of his goodness towards her and Jane since they arrived.
His behaviour in general still had its mild gravity and dignified address, but he was making himself pleasant to all.
He had improved so much in civility that she was nearly certain that she could be guaranteed of Darcy’s friendship once she had spoken with him.
Any other hopes, naturally, are groundless.
Shaking her head, Elizabeth continued her circuit of the house.
With the poor weather, the gentlemen had dedicated themselves to beating one another at billiards.
The women were left to their work, their music, and their conversation with one another.
Naturally, after a day and a half of this, Elizabeth had grown tired of them.
She would always want to be with Jane, but her talk about marriage and home with Louisa, and Caroline’s petty jealousies, and even Mrs Lanyon’s quietude were taxing.
Deciding she had time to take another circuit before dinner, she entered a room to pass through it to the stairs and noticed Miss Darcy standing near the fireplace. Elizabeth would have only curtseyed and passed through, but she heard the unmistakable sound of sniffling.
“Miss Darcy,” she said softly, “are you well?”
She started, and Elizabeth saw that she was crying. She drew near and, without saying a word, led Miss Darcy to the sofa. The younger woman’s eyes were fixed on the ground for several long moments before she said, “Forgive me. I thought I would be entirely alone here.”
“I am sorry to have disturbed you. I only wish there were anything I could do to comfort you.”
Miss Darcy shook her head. “I was just thinking over my regrets.” She dried her eyes and looked towards the fireplace.
Elizabeth followed her gaze, and then felt a sickness in her heart when she noticed the miniatures suspended over the mantelpiece. One was clearly a young George Wickham.
“Do, do you have regrets regarding . . . that man?”
Miss Darcy lowered her handkerchief from her face. “Fitzwilliam told me that you befriended Mr Wickham, and . . . because you believed his lies, he had to tell you what I—I am so mortified.”
Elizabeth took her hand as Miss Darcy started to cry anew. “Then your brother must also have told you that I was blind and prejudiced, and eagerly believed every lie Mr Wickham told. I lacked all discernment. It is shameful, almost criminal, how I favoured that man.”
“I am ashamed about my own conduct towards him. You must think me foolish to cry over a worthless man.”
“You must regret your imprudence, of course, but you thought the attachment a sincere one. It is natural for you to mourn the loss, even if he is the wickedest young man in the world.”
“I am just as ashamed that I consented to an elopement, and with such a man. It was an indulgence to cry over him, over thinking that I had been loved.” Miss Darcy dried her eyes one final time and said, still looking cast down, “I am sorry you found me this way.”
“I have several younger sisters, and one of them is always having a cry about something,” she said to make Miss Darcy smile. “It is an almost daily occurrence at Longbourn, so you have made me feel very much at home at Pemberley.”
After a silence, Miss Darcy said, “You will not tell Fitzwilliam, or Mrs Annesley, or Carew, will you? I could not bear it if they assumed I still cared for him.”
Elizabeth shook her head. Miss Darcy had only been fifteen, and mourned the loss of her first attachment more than the actual man. “Certainly not. In fact, we shall stay here a little while until you are certain you can dress for dinner without Carew noticing that your eyes were red.”
She gave her some privacy and walked around the room.
There was a study table, bookcases, and a sofa.
There was a rosewood inkstand on the table next to two silver tapersticks.
Although it was not as lofty as some of Pemberley’s other rooms, it was cosy with a fine view of the gardens.
“I was taking a walk around the house—I could walk without fatigue and still not see every room—but I do not think I have done more than walk past this one.”
Miss Darcy finished drying her eyes and rose. “I think Reynolds shows it to visitors, but other than that it is rarely used.”
Elizabeth approached Wickham’s likeness.
Next to it was a miniature of Darcy, done around the same age, and she recognised one of Miss Darcy when still a child.
There were other portraits, likely of intimate family, but only Darcy’s could hold any interest to her.
She heard Miss Darcy come alongside her.
“Why is his picture here?” Elizabeth asked softly whilst looking at Wickham. Why had Darcy not put it to the fire years ago, if not after what happened at Ramsgate?
“This was my father’s favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to be then. Reynolds says he was very fond of them being all together on the mantelpiece.”
“What does your brother say?”
She shrugged. “He is not often in this room. He uses a desk in a room nearer to his bedchamber, and keeps his favourite books there.” Elizabeth noticed how Miss Darcy did her best not to look at Wickham’s picture.
Although she was shy, Elizabeth thought Miss Darcy might say more, and in time her patience was rewarded.
“Fitzwilliam is conscious of Pemberley’s legacy, his responsibility to the house, the servants, the tenants, and what he owes to those who came before him.
Whilst he might redecorate or make improvements, on the whole he does not want to disrespect my father’s memory, and he wants to preserve Pemberley in such a way that, when it is passed to his children and grandchildren, it would be just as recognisable to them as it was to my father and grandfather. ”
Elizabeth said, “I do not think your father would be so fond of that miniature if he knew the harm that his godson caused his daughter.”
Miss Darcy sighed, and Elizabeth wondered if she doubted that she meant as much to her father as had Wickham. “And your brother,” she added, “is dedicated to Pemberley, and it is to his credit that he knows what is due to his family as well as to everyone who depends on Pemberley . . .”
Elizabeth picked up Wickham’s miniature. “But from what I know of him and what I have seen of his attachment to you, Mr Darcy is equally devoted to you and to your happiness.” She set the miniature facedown on the mantelpiece, and moved the other family pictures nearer to fill in the space.
Miss Darcy looked at the mantelpiece a long moment, and then nodded in agreement.
“Are you composed now, Miss Darcy?”
“As for tears and regret, I have done with that, as far as he is concerned.”
“I am very glad, because he is not worth your time or your—”
“Ladies!” They turned to see Mr Balfour enter. “I thought everyone would be dressing for dinner by now.”
“Did you return from a ride or a walk? And in this weather?” Elizabeth cried. He must have worn a greatcoat whilst he had been out, and was carrying his hat and gloves, but he still appeared wet through.
“Aye, I had to get out of this house for a wee bit. I rode to Lambton, but there is nothing there. There are only so many times I can beat Bingley at billiards before it becomes dull and, as lofty as Pemberley is, I could not walk it again.” Mr Balfour stepped nearer.
“Although I do not think I have been in here before. I usually only take a short cut through it to get to the stairs by the picture gallery.”
Elizabeth waited for Miss Darcy to reply, but her reticence had returned in the face of Mr Balfour’s cheerful temper.
He was rather tall, not handsome, but not so plain with his fine figure and pleasing manner.
She could see how Miss Darcy’s shyness might prevent her from speaking at length with a tall, older man who was so animated.
“I understand this room was a favourite of Mr Darcy’s father, and has scarcely been touched since he died.”
“Indeed? That makes sense. I met Darcy not long before his father’s death; he took it very hard.” He came farther into the room and looked around. “’Tis a well-appointed room to be so neglected.”
“Miss Darcy was showing me a view of the gardens.” At this, Mr Balfour went to the window.
Whilst his attention was elsewhere, Elizabeth gave Miss Darcy a look to ask if she was well.
She nodded, ducking her head as she did.
Miss Darcy was composed enough now to be in company. “I think we shall dress for dinner.”
Mr Balfour bowed, and made some compliments about neither of them needing a single alteration to appear before company before allowing them to leave.