Chapter Two
Fitzwilliam Darcy had been looking forward to returning to Pemberley.
London had afforded him very little peace.
Every dinner appeared to produce another mother anxious to secure his acquaintance and another daughter determined to display her accomplishments.
He did not blame the young ladies half so much as their parents, but Derbyshire and the peace it offered had never seemed more inviting.
He had promised Georgiana that once he was home again they would spend the afternoon together. She was to play him a new sonata, they would walk as far as the lake if the weather remained fair and dine quietly afterwards.
As the carriage turned between the stone gateposts and began the long drive towards the house, Darcy felt some of the weariness of the past month begin to fall away.
The park looked exactly as he had left it.
Sheep grazed peacefully beneath the old oaks, the river caught the afternoon sun in bright flashes between the trees and, beyond it all, Pemberley stood warm and familiar against the Derbyshire hills.
As they came to a halt before the house, Darcy saw that Mrs Reynolds, his trusted housekeeper, was already waiting upon the steps.
She had evidently been watching for his arrival, for she descended before the horses had fully drawn to a halt.
“Beside her stood Mr Graves, Pemberley’s steward, who lived up to his name.
A neat bundle of folded papers was tucked beneath his arm and his expression was stern.
Darcy sighed. He knew that expression and it was not the sort that allowed for a peaceful afternoon.
Burke, Darcy’s valet, looked from one to the other as he gathered up the travelling things.
"I am pleased to see Mrs Reynolds, sir."
"So am I."
"It is Mr Graves who gives me cause for concern. I had hoped, just once, to find him waiting with a fishing rod and plans for a picnic luncheon."
Darcy laughed as the carriage came to a halt. "I think that exceedingly unlikely."
"So do I, sir. But I live in hope."
Mrs Reynolds came forward the moment Darcy stepped down onto the gravel. "Welcome home, Mr Darcy."
He smiled as he took both her hands in his. She was one of the few people in the world with whom such a greeting felt entirely natural. Mrs Reynolds had cared for him since childhood and, after his father's death, had watched over Georgiana with a devotion he would never forget.
"It is good to be home, Mrs Reynolds. I trust everything has been well?"
"Very well indeed, sir. Though I believe Miss Darcy has found the last fortnight rather long in your absence."
She went on in a quiet voice, "Mr Graves would like your opinion on several estate matters and I should warn you that Cook is having another one of her tempers."
"Has she threatened to resign again?"
Mrs Reynolds sighed. "Indeed, sir"
He let out a long breath. "I shall talk to her."
Until this point, Mr Graves had stood patiently to one side, waiting for the conversation to reach its natural conclusion. Seeing a pause, he stepped forward. "Welcome home, sir."
"Thank you, Graves."
"There are one or two matters of pressing business which require your decision when you have a convenient moment.
The north farm leases are due for renewal next week and Mr Wilcox would value your opinion before the new agreements are drawn up.
The surveyor has also completed his inspection of the west boundary wall. "
"Do you think I might be permitted to step inside and remove my gloves before we begin setting Pemberley to rights, Graves?" asked Darcy.
"Of course, sir," replied the steward. "Nothing is so urgent that it cannot wait five minutes."
Burke walked past with a trunk balanced upon his shoulder. "Five whole minutes," he said in a voice so low that only Darcy could hear. "Mr Graves is becoming positively reckless."
Darcy shook his head and stepped into the hall.
A footman relieved him of his hat before the head gardener appeared to ask whether the first peaches from the south wall were to be sent to the village school, as they had been the previous summer, or reserved for the house.
Before he had answered, Wilson the butler enquired whether the Darcys would receive the vicar for supper on Thursday, while Mrs Reynolds called after him to ask if the blue bedchamber should be prepared for Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had written to say he might visit before the month's end.
Together, they ensured he had scarcely been home five minutes before the quiet afternoon he had imagined was slipping steadily out of reach.
???
By the time Darcy reached the music room, the afternoon had slipped away entirely. Sunlight stretched in long bands across the polished floor and the lake, where he had intended to walk with his sister, shimmered beyond the south lawn, with no prospect now of being reached before dinner.
Georgiana was seated at the pianoforte with her back to the door. She turned as he entered, and whatever disappointment she may have felt at his delay disappeared at once beneath a smile.
"I had begun to think Mr Graves intended to keep you until tomorrow."
"I believe he would have done, had Mrs Reynolds not intervened."
Darcy crossed the room and kissed her forehead before laying his hand upon the instrument. "I owe you an apology. The afternoon has not gone at all as I intended."
"No," she said gently, "but you are here now."
There was so little reproach in the remark that it made him feel more guilty than any complaint would have done.
"I had hoped we might walk as far as the lake."
"We still can."
He glanced towards the windows where the shadows had already begun to creep across the lawn. "Only if we wish to return in darkness."
She followed his gaze and smiled. "Then I shall play instead."
He settled himself in the chair beside the window while Georgiana rearranged the sheets of music before her.
The room soon filled with the sound of the pianoforte, and for the first time since leaving London there was nothing required of him.
There was only Georgiana's music and the scent of roses drifting through the open window.
When the final notes faded, neither of them spoke immediately. At length Darcy rose from his chair. "You have improved enormously."
A flush of pleasure touched Georgiana's cheeks as she closed the music. "I should hope so. Mrs Annesley insists I practise every day. Although my master seems persuaded that I still hurry whenever I reach the middle movement."
"Then he listens more critically than I do. It seemed beautifully played."
"You are a very partial judge."
"Undoubtedly."
She laughed. "I shall choose to believe you all the same."
They moved towards the windows together. Outside, the gardeners were already gathering their tools for the evening, while somewhere beyond the trees came the distant sound of children calling to one another.
Georgiana glanced sideways at her brother. "You look tired."
"I expect I do."
"You have looked tired since you returned from town in the spring. I had hoped this visit to London might improve your spirits."
"I sometimes think," he said after a while, "that I am so used to doing what is expected that I scarcely stop to ask what I want.
" He smiled faintly. "Today is a perfect example.
Before I reached the house I had already planned the afternoon in my mind.
We were to walk by the lake, you were to play your new sonata and I imagined, for perhaps a few hours, that the world would be content to leave us in peace. "
"And instead?"
"Instead Mr Graves arrived with his papers, Cook has had yet another spectacular fit of temper and I have a pile of correspondence on my desk that will take me several days to conquer."
Georgiana smiled up at him. "I do not think anyone else could manage Pemberley half so well."
He looked out across the park. Everything appeared exactly as it ought to.
The lawns were immaculate, the cattle grazed peacefully in the lower meadow and smoke rose steadily from the chimneys beyond.
It was everything his father had worked to preserve and everything Darcy had considered his duty to protect.
"I have no wish to be anywhere else," he said quietly. "I only wonder whether I have become too good at saying yes to every demand that finds its way to my door."
Georgiana considered this for a moment. "I think Papa used to do the same."
Darcy looked at her. "I scarcely remember him refusing anyone."
"No." She smiled. "Except Aunt Catherine."
Despite himself, Darcy laughed. "Except Aunt Catherine."
"I remember Mama once saying that the kindest people often have the greatest difficulty disappointing others."
Darcy turned the thought over without answering. Outside, the evening breeze stirred the branches around the lake, and he took his sister’s hand and squeezed it gently. Despite all the interruptions, he was home, and in this moment there was nowhere he would rather be.
???
The following morning dawned bright and clear at Pemberley. The library windows stood open upon the gardens and, save for the occasional turning of a page or the scratch of a pen, the room was quiet.
Darcy sat at his father's old desk working steadily through the correspondence Mr Graves had declared incapable of waiting another day.
Across the room Georgiana occupied a smaller writing table by the window, answering several invitations that had accumulated during her brother's absence.
Now and then one of them would look up to ask the other's opinion on a date or the wording of a reply, but for the most part they worked in companionable silence.
Darcy had nearly reached the bottom of the first pile when voices carried from the entrance hall.
"If you would permit me to announce you, Colonel—"
"My dear Wilson, Darcy has known me since I was born. I think we may dispense with ceremony."
"Nevertheless, sir..."
Georgiana smiled before the library door had even opened. "Richard."