Chapter Eleven #2
Not assured of the animal’s dependability, Darcy stopped several times to rest the horse.
Changing horses at a small inn he often frequented on his journeys, he stayed on the main roads until he drew closer to Pemberley.
By taking the rolling hills surrounding the parkland, Darcy saved valuable time; moreover, the prospect of the house coming from the far side of the lake always took his breath away.
No one on the estate expected him until late evening and being alone on his lands brought him the peace he had missed while in London.
He rode into his stables at mid-morning, scattering surprised servants with his early arrival. The ride left Darcy covered in road dust and perspiration. Handing over the reins at Mr. Howard’s approach was a welcomed comfort.
“Mr. Darcy, sir, we did not expect you until later today at the earliest.”
“My party will arrive tomorrow,” he offered, shaking hands with his steward. “I had hoped we could address our business later this afternoon so I can be at my guests’ disposal.”
“Yes, sir,” Howard offered. “Whenever you wish, sir.”
“I will send word once I freshen my clothing.” Darcy turned towards the house.
“Mr. Darcy, sir,” Howard called, “Mrs. Reynolds reports there are visitors in the main house.”
Darcy frowned. “Visitors? I should avoid them.” Darcy unconsciously glanced in the direction of the house. “I am not quite attired for social calls, am I?”
“No, sir,” Mr. Howard mumbled.
Assuming the visitors would still be in the manor’s main corridors, Darcy followed the road from behind the stables to make a side entrance.
Coming forward from the road, he encountered the visitors standing on the lawn, which led to the stream.
The group still looked towards the house, and, at first, Darcy thought he would step into the shadows until the strangers passed him, but when his eyes alighted on a figure he had many times envisioned standing in this exact place, he changed his mind.
It was Elizabeth, and she was within twenty yards of him.
His heart leapt at the sight of her, and Darcy momentarily froze.
She turned her head, and her eyes met his.
She blushed from the initial embarrassment.
They had not beheld each other since he had handed her his letter in Rosings’ parklands.
Darcy’s prayer had been answered. Elizabeth was at Pemberley, and he had been granted a second chance. He recovered quickly and advanced to where her party stood. Discomfited, Elizabeth instinctively turned away, but when he called her name, she stopped and received his greetings.
Although not as composed as he wished, Darcy made a point of speaking calmly and with civility.
“Miss Elizabeth, what a surprise to discover you at Pemberley.” Happily, his voice held a bit of the composure he feigned.
He made her the obligatory bow, but he could not remove his eyes from her face.
It had been months since he had seen her.
He was a starving man. Moreover, he felt the necessity of observing her reaction to his unexpected entrance.
Blushing, she curtsied and addressed him, her voice as composed as his. She did not raise her eyes but said, “Mr. Darcy, we understood you were away.”
“No, no, I am not,” he answered as evenly as his equanimity would allow.
Elizabeth did not respond. Obviously, her embarrassment was intense: She was a woman who was never at a loss for words.
Darcy recognized how she must have felt at his finding her at Pemberley; she would never have come to his home if she had thought him present.
Elizabeth possessed too much pride. It was important for her to understand he claimed no censure of her.
“I returned early; I have business with my steward. None of the staff knew of my change of plans.”
“Your housekeeper assured us of as much,” she rasped.
“Forgive me,” he said haltingly, “are your parents in health?”
She half smiled, “They are, sir. Thank you for asking.”
The start of the smile sent his mind spinning with hope for some renewal of their acquaintance. She continued to be embarrassed, but no disdain showed on her countenance.
“And your sisters are in health, also?”
“They were, sir, when we departed Longbourn,” her voice had more volume.
“How long have you been in Derbyshire?” He must keep her talking. Darcy could not walk away from her.
“Two … two days.” She stumbled over the words.
“Your parents are in health?” he chuckled at his own discomposure. “Where are you staying?” Oh, God, should I have said that?
“In Lambton—at the Royal Crown.” Her uneasiness still remained, and she lifted her eyes briefly to him, evidently expecting him to take some sort of revenge for their last meeting, but Darcy’s mind was more pleasantly engaged.
“We should not have disturbed your privacy, Mr. Darcy,” she asserted. “I can only offer my apologies.”
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said earnestly, “you are always welcome at Pemberley.” He wanted to say more, but he realized something of his unkempt appearance. “Please enjoy the grounds at your leisure.” With that, he made his bow and left her standing on the lawn.
Knowing once he propelled himself forward, he could not stop, he walked away quickly.
If he paused even briefly, his legs would buckle beneath him.
Elizabeth was at Pemberley. If Hurst’s carriage had not broken down, Darcy would still be in a village twenty miles away keeping Caroline Bingley company.
Instead, he held an opportunity, although slim it may be, to show Elizabeth Bennet he had learned from her accusations; Darcy was not the man she refused at Hunsford.
Entering Pemberley, he took the stairs two at a time.
He knew not what he would do, but he knew he must engage Elizabeth again before she departed the grounds.
Servants rushed about as he barked out orders for fresh water to be brought up to his dressing area immediately.
To lighten the load of both coaches, Darcy had sent several of the trunks ahead last evening with Sheffield.
He prayed as he ascended the stairs he would find his valet and fresh clothing awaiting him in his chambers.
At the top of the stairs, Darcy nearly ran into Mrs. Reynolds. “Mr. Darcy,” she exclaimed. “You were not expected.”
He did not acknowledge her remark, but he made his inquiry. “Mrs. Reynolds, the visitors—were they treated well?”
“Yes, sir, I showed them the house myself.”
“Send word to the gardener to delay their leaving as long as possible. I wish to greet them properly.”
“The young lady said she was an acquaintance,” the housekeeper added as he started towards his chambers.
Darcy stopped dead. “Did she say anything else, Mrs. Reynolds? I mean—about me?”
“She agreed she found you to be handsome.” She looked questioningly at him.
His contrary behavior to expectations evidently made her question whether what she said was appropriate; yet, Darcy delighted in her retelling.
“And she spent some time looking at your portrait in the gallery, returning to it several times. I thought that was unusual. Should I not have shared those areas with her party?”
Darcy’s smile unmistakably surprised his housekeeper. “Mrs. Reynolds, the young lady should always be welcomed at Pemberley.” Then he turned and rushed off to his chambers.
“Sheffield, I am glad you are here,” he called to his valet.
His man hesitated, “What service do you desire, sir?”
“I need fresh clothes, man. There are visitors on the grounds I want to greet properly. I must be quick. They are acquaintances from my time in Hertfordshire.”
The man set about assisting his master off with his boots as warm water was brought in for Darcy’s ablutions. “The water is only warm, sir—not hot.”
“It will do, Henry. Please hurry.”
“Yes, sir,” Sheffield snapped into action, and in less than half an hour, Darcy exited one of Pemberley’s side doors and headed towards the parkland.
Elizabeth! Somehow, he must show her, as if she did not already know, the power she held over him.
He was affectionately attached to her and would never see a woman whom he thought her equal, but he must not rush things.
However, she may not be in Lambton long.
One of the gardener’s apprentices pointed the way the visitors had taken, and Darcy set out towards an abrupt rise.
Her party had entered the woods and ascended some of the higher ground as they neared part of the stream.
Darcy knew the gardener would lead them around the outskirts of the area; therefore, he cut across the less traveled pathways to intercept them.
As he approached, he noted Elizabeth composing her countenance.
He saw the setting of her shoulders and the raising of her chin.
There would be no more surprises for either of them, for each had had a few moments of preparation since he left her on the lawn.
His emotions ran amuck; there was pleasure, pain, agitation, delight, and even a bit of misery.
For her, it was apparent embarrassment—not disdain or contempt, if he was reading her expression correctly—just embarrassment at being found by him at his estate.
For once, Darcy elated in her discomfiture.
It meant she valued his opinions as much as he valued hers.
“Mr. Darcy,” she began, “Pemberley is delightful and charming.” Suddenly, she stopped as quickly as she began.
At first, this confused Darcy, but then he saw the “horror” flash upon her countenance.
She feared her praise of his home appeared a trap for his affections.
Little did the lady know he would readily accede to any trap she cared to set for him.
He assigned importance to her opinion, so he asked, “Then you approve?”