Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Elizabeth could scarcely believe she had returned to Pemberley so soon. The previous afternoon, she and the Gardiners had toured the house as visitors; tonight, they had been received as guests of the family.
Her first visit had contained more embarrassment than she cared to remember.
When the portrait gallery revealed that the man she had mistaken for a gardener was, in fact, the heir to Pemberley, she had consoled herself with the belief that she would never be obliged to face him again.
Even when Mrs Reynolds announced that the master wished to invite them to tea, Elizabeth had felt some relief upon discovering that she meant the elder Mr Darcy.
That relief had been short-lived. They had scarcely been served when Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy entered the room.
Elizabeth had risen perhaps half a second later than everyone else, heat creeping up her chest and into her cheeks until she was certain she had turned as red as the strawberries in the tart Mrs Reynolds had insisted she take.
To her astonishment, the younger Mr Darcy had neither exposed her mistake nor appeared offended by it.
Instead, he had welcomed her graciously, chosen a seat beside her and quietly assured her that the misunderstanding had been entirely reasonable.
Any lingering mortification had faded during the hour they subsequently spent among the books.
Though reserved at first, he had gradually grown easier, and by the time they parted, Elizabeth had found their conversation remarkably agreeable.
Indeed, her thoughts had lingered upon Pemberley throughout the evening—upon its gardens, its magnificent library and, most persistently, upon the younger Mr Darcy.
She had therefore been astonished when her aunt and uncle told her that they had been invited to return.
She was the daughter of a gentleman, certainly, but Longbourn was nothing to Pemberley, and her uncle’s connexion to trade could hardly recommend them to a family of the Darcys’ consequence.
Perhaps the elder Mr Darcy’s regard for her aunt’s father was explanation enough.
Elizabeth was not entirely persuaded that it was.
Upon their arrival at Pemberley, they were shown into the same sitting room they had occupied the previous afternoon.
Mr Darcy and his son rose to receive them, and beside them stood a young girl whom Elizabeth readily believed to be Georgiana Darcy.
An older lady stood slightly behind her, almost certainly her governess.
Elizabeth’s suppositions were soon confirmed as the introductions were made. Once everyone was seated, she took a place beside Miss Darcy, while the girl’s governess, Mrs Livesay, settled nearby.
“How are you this evening, Miss Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.
“I am very well, thank you, Miss Bennet.” Although Miss Darcy’s voice was quiet, she met Elizabeth’s gaze with a tentative smile. “Mrs Reynolds told me that you admired the library.”
The words sounded carefully prepared, but the interest behind them appeared genuine.
“I did indeed,” Elizabeth answered, endeavouring not to speak with too much enthusiasm.
“I have never seen so many books gathered in one place—unless one counts the circulating library my aunt and uncle have taken me to in London. Still, there is a considerable difference between visiting such a place and having so many volumes always at one’s disposal. I confess I am quite envious.”
She smiled as she said it, hoping Miss Darcy would recognise the teasing spirit in which the admission was offered.
Her effort was rewarded with a light laugh. “I believe I have always taken the library at Pemberley for granted, but I do love to sit and read there whenever I have a free moment.”
Their conversation continued in much the same manner, passing easily from books to music. Although Miss Darcy had shown some hesitation at first, her reserve gradually eased, and Elizabeth was surprised when dinner was announced; she had scarcely noticed how quickly the time had passed.
Mr Darcy offered his arm to Mrs Gardiner, but Elizabeth was surprised when Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy approached her rather than his sister.
Miss Darcy appeared entirely unsurprised by the arrangement, however, and readily accepted Mr Gardiner’s arm.
Elizabeth returned her escort’s smile and allowed him to lead her towards the dining room.
As they walked, Mr Darcy explained that they would dine in the family dining room.
It contained a much smaller table than Elizabeth would have expected to find in so grand a house, but the round table comfortably accommodated their party of seven and lent the gathering a degree of intimacy that would have been impossible in Pemberley’s formal dining room.
The elder Mr Darcy escorted Mrs Gardiner to the place on his right, while his son guided Elizabeth to a chair between himself and Miss Darcy.
Mr Gardiner sat beside his wife, and Mrs Livesay took the remaining place between him and the younger Mr Darcy.
Whether the arrangement had occurred by chance, Elizabeth could not say, but she found she had no inclination to object to it.
Elizabeth remained conscious of the wider conversation, yet much of her attention was claimed by Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy and his sister on either side of her. Conversation among the three flowed with surprising ease, as though their acquaintance were measured in weeks rather than hours.
Miss Darcy spoke of the pieces she had recently begun to practise, though she admitted that she disliked performing before anyone other than her family.
“That is because she expects perfection of herself whenever she plays,” her brother said.
Miss Darcy looked across Elizabeth at him. “You are hardly in a position to criticise me for that.”
Elizabeth caught the faint lift of Mr Darcy’s brows and struggled to contain her amusement. There was surprise in his expression as well, and she wondered whether his sister was not ordinarily given to teasing him before others.
“I begin to suspect, Miss Darcy, that you know your brother exceedingly well,” Elizabeth said, while Mr Darcy appeared to consider his response.
“I have known him all my life,” the girl replied, with growing confidence.
“It is an unfair advantage,” he observed drily.
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said with a broad smile, “but one you are unlikely to overcome.”
Miss Darcy laughed, and the warm look her brother bestowed upon her revealed an affection he made little attempt to conceal. Elizabeth had already understood that he was fond of his sister; seeing such tenderness in his expression made the knowledge feel altogether different.
At length, the elder Mr Darcy turned the conversation towards the excursion proposed for the following day.
“Since our guests have already seen something of Pemberley’s gardens, I thought we might take our picnic towards the western ridge. The prospect from there is among the finest on the estate.”
“Provided Miss Bennet can be persuaded to leave the library again,” his son said.
Elizabeth turned towards him. “I was persuaded to leave it yesterday.”
“Only after nearly an hour.”
“Then you must acknowledge that I possess remarkable strength of character.”
His smile appeared slowly. “I believe I have already begun to suspect it.”
The words were lightly spoken, but his gaze remained upon hers a moment longer than the remark required. Elizabeth prayed her countenance did not betray the warmth creeping up her neck and endeavoured to meet his eyes steadily.
Despite that brief moment of discomposure, the remainder of the meal passed with equal pleasure.
Elizabeth spoke with the elder Mr Darcy about Lambton as she knew it from her aunt’s recollections, while Mr Gardiner expressed interest in several improvements recently undertaken upon the estate.
Yet even when the conversation became general, Elizabeth remained conscious of the gentleman beside her—of the quiet amusement in his replies and the frequency with which she discovered his gaze already resting upon her.
After dinner, Miss Darcy invited Elizabeth to sit beside her at the pianoforte.
She played beautifully, though with less confidence than skill, and Elizabeth soon understood what her brother had meant about the girl expecting perfection of herself.
When a slight error caused Miss Darcy to falter and lower her hands from the keys, Elizabeth leaned closer.
“Pray, do not stop. If I possessed half your ability, I should inflict my playing upon everyone whether they wished to hear it or not,” Elizabeth said gently.
Miss Darcy smiled uncertainly. “You do not play?”
“A little—and very ill, according to my own judgement, though not quite so ill according to my mother’s. My sister Mary practises for hours each day, and I have never managed the same degree of diligence.”
“I should like to play before others without being so frightened of making a mistake,” Miss Darcy admitted.
“I believe one may be eager for a thing and frightened of it at the same time,” Elizabeth said. “Indeed, I suspect the things most worth doing are very often both.”
Miss Darcy considered this before returning her hands to the keys.
“Elizabeth does herself an injustice,” Mrs Gardiner said from her place nearby. “She plays very well when we can persuade her to perform for us. While she may want for practice, she plays with great expression and sings beautifully.”
“My aunt is excessively partial to me—and entirely too kind,” Elizabeth replied.
“Then perhaps you will play for us tomorrow and allow us to judge which of you has come nearer the truth,” Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy said from behind her.
Elizabeth turned towards him. “I thought tomorrow was to be a picnic.”
“Pemberley will still possess a pianoforte when we return from our outing.” His solemn countenance might have deceived her, had she not already learnt to recognise the amusement in his eyes.
Beneath the teasing, she detected an unmistakable expectation—not merely that she would play, but that she would return to Pemberley once again.
Miss Darcy resumed her playing, and when she had finished, the party passed another agreeable half-hour in conversation. At last, Mrs Gardiner regretfully observed that they ought to return to Lambton, and the gentlemen sent for their carriage.
While the others exchanged their farewells, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy approached Elizabeth with a volume in his hand.
“You expressed an interest in this yesterday.”
Elizabeth accepted it with care. “You would allow me to borrow it?”
“If you promise to return it.”
“We leave Lambton in less than a se’nnight. I shall have very little time to read, especially with all the outings your father has suggested.”
“Then read what you can of it while you are here. If, as I suspect, Georgiana’s regard for you continues to grow, she will no doubt insist upon corresponding with you, and we can arrange for its return after you have finished it.
You may find it a welcome distraction upon your journey home to Hertfordshire.
” Mr Darcy paused. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to bring it back yourself upon another visit to Pemberley.”
His tone remained composed, but there was nothing ambiguous in the look accompanying those final words.
Elizabeth lowered her eyes to the volume, though not before she knew he had seen her smile.
When she entered the Gardiners’ carriage a short while later, she held the book carefully against her.
It was not until Pemberley had disappeared from view that she allowed herself to wonder whether Mr Darcy had lent it to her merely because he believed she would enjoy it—or because he hoped she would choose to return it herself.
She rather hoped it was both.