Chapter 15
Fifteen
“ G ood day, ma’am,” Mr Gardiner called out to the lady who had just entered the hall. “I beg your pardon, but there was no one to greet us at the door.”
“Things are a bit irregular today,” the lady replied with a bright smile. “You must excuse us. I am Mrs Reynolds, the housekeeper here at Pemberley.”
“It is such a beautiful place,” Mrs Gardiner said warmly. “We have scarcely had time to look about, but I assure you, we have not seen its like, not at Chatsworth or Blenheim or any of the other fine homes we have toured.”
Mrs Reynolds blushed. “I thank you, and I assure you I am exceedingly grateful for my position here. Not only because Pemberley is such a beautiful home, but also because the Darcys are such an estimable family.”
“You have been with them for some time then?” asked Mr Gardiner.
“I have known the present master since he was a mere lad of four,” the good lady answered. “Never a cross word from him. Such a fine young gentleman… I only wish I could see him married. Then we might have some children about the place! The patter of small feet would be the only improvement I could imagine.”
“Nothing raises the spirits of a place like the laughter of a child,” Mr Gardiner agreed.
She beckoned them to follow, and they fell into step behind her. “A curious thing,” Mrs Gardiner interjected. “I believe I had heard something of some trouble here at Pemberley.”
“Did you? Trouble of what sort?” Mrs Reynolds asked over her shoulder.
“Something like…some dead animals? Some illness among the tenants?” Mrs Gardiner felt foolish, uncertain why she had even introduced the subject. “Forgive me, I cannot rightly recall it. I am sure it was nothing.”
“I do not remember hearing anything of that sort myself,” Mr Gardiner said.
Mrs Reynolds shook her head. “No, nor I. I have had a bit of a cold but nothing more than a trifling thing. A day in my bedchamber and I was right as rain.”
They chatted for a short while longer. Mrs Reynolds had no knowledge of anything to do with Elizabeth and had not seen a young lady in the house.
“I have not seen her about,” she said. “If you will spare me a moment or two, I shall lead you around and see if we cannot find her. Surely, one of the footmen will have noticed her. Most of them are not apt to overlook a pretty young lady.”
“A cruel dilemma, is it not?” Jessabelle asked cheerfully. “Who will stay? And who will go? Darcy, surely the gentleman in you will offer your chivalry and set your love free? But what if she should meet another? What if she grows tired of waiting for you, fearing the onset of spinsterhood? The bird in hand is worth two in the bush…or as the case may be, in the painting.”
Wickham offered his opinion. “Darcy, undoubtedly you will be the one to want to leave. How can you think of marrying with your estate in such a disarray? No, best to leave her here where you can protect her and keep her safe, and in so doing, have time to return Pemberley to the splendour befitting a new mistress.”
“Only think that with your cleverness you could likely determine some way to free her yourself! You certainly should be the one to leave, Darcy,” Jessabelle said tauntingly.
“Miss Bennet will not answer for the sins of my father,” Darcy replied.
“So you admit it!” Jessabelle cried out. “You own that I am your father’s child, your sister.”
“I admit no such thing, save for the fact that I know that you believe it,” Darcy retorted. “Is that what you want? You want to be acknowledged as a Darcy? You want some sort of fortune?”
“I do not wish for so much as a farthing,” Jessabelle hissed.
“Then what do you want from me?” he demanded.
“Nothing. There is nothing you may give me that will permit you to escape your fate.” Jessabelle stretched out her hand, resting it on the canvas. “Miss Bennet, he has said you ought to be the one to leave. Touch my hand, and you will be free.”
Darcy felt his heart in his throat, and tears burned at his eyes as Elizabeth turned to look at him. “Go,” he urged her, “and pay them no mind. I will love you forever. Of that you may be sure.”
He reached for her hand, placing a soft kiss onto the back of it. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling her scent, praying it would last him for the remaining long years. “I love you,” he told her again.
“And I you,” she said. “More than anything.”
She turned back to the duo outside the painting. A smile broke over her countenance. “I choose to remain.”
“You barely know him,” Jessabelle spat dismissively, her hand still outstretched. “Come now, take my hand.”
Elizabeth folded her hands behind her back. “I thank you, but no. I would rather live with him in this world than be without him outside of it.”
Jessabelle rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Stupid, stupid girl. Very well then, Darcy, you are free. Take my hand.”
“No,” he said, his gaze upon Elizabeth with a smile on his countenance. “No, we will both remain here, together.”
He pulled Elizabeth closer, tucking her under his arm. “I love you so, but how I wish you would not make this sacrifice for me. ”
“Is that not the greatest of love?” she asked, tilting her head to see him. “To love someone more than you love your own comfort? To sacrifice anything to join your lives together? I am more than willing to make that sacrifice.”
“I will be certain your life knows little of sacrifice,” he told her, “little of privation and nothing of want. Mrs Darcy will have no cause to repine—not now, not ever.”
“Mrs Darcy?”
“Dear, sweet Elizabeth, yes. I beg you, please—promise yourself to me, here and now, for always. I do love you, and I do intend for your life, both within this painting and without, to be always joyful. Others might smile, but you, my darling, will laugh each and all of your days.”
“It is madness, is it not? Perhaps I have known you a day or perhaps it has been a year. Nevertheless, I know we belong to one another,” she said tremulously. “Yes, I shall be your wife.”
The room disappeared as he leant into her, uncaring who saw him kiss her. He felt her begin to tremble and gathered her tightly to his chest as they lost themselves in their lovers’ embrace.
Her trembling did not cease but, in fact, began to strengthen, and dimly, he recognised that Wickham and his sister were shouting about something. Something was amiss, and Darcy perceived the danger even as he sensed the shaking deep into his own bones. Just as he opened his eyes to see what was happening the shaking became convulsive and he heard a loud shattering sound, the thud of wood and metal colliding. He wrapped Elizabeth within a tight embrace, begging her to cling to him, doing all he could to protect her and keep her safe from injury as they tumbled to the ground amidst rubble.
Suddenly, everything stopped.