Chapter 27 Pemberley
The following day, Darcy and Richard walked with their party of ladies to the Old Palace and obtained permission to tour the interior, one of the housekeepers serving as their guide.
Darcy took Elizabeth’s arm and drew it through his own.
It felt natural to have her near; every so often, he caught the faint fragrance of her hair.
He realized, with quiet wonder, that he was happy.
Life had never seemed so bright. They were all silent as they passed through the long, wide banquet hall, its lofty arches rising overhead and its walls hung with intricate tapestries.
They continued through several bedchambers and salons, and on the second floor stepped out onto a balcony that overlooked what had once been the inner courtyard of the palace.
Darcy stood beside Elizabeth as she leaned over the stone balustrade. She turned to him, her eyes alight.
“The view is striking. Everything looks smaller from up here, the elaborate mazes, the clipped hedges, and in the distance, the willow and yew trees swaying in the light breeze, just as the trees must have done when the princess lived here.”
He turned his gaze from her face toward the gardens below. “Yes, you can almost feel her presence here, a young girl wandering through the garden beneath the old oaks.
Darcy moved from the balcony and gathered the party together.
“I ordered an early luncheon at the inn,” he said, “and hope to be on the road again by noon.” They walked away, leaving behind the ancient palace and its memories of the Tudors; of Mary and of the fifteen-year-old Elizabeth, who had once lived there under the shadow of danger, navigating conflict, scandal, and accusations of treason.
As they walked arm in arm, Elizabeth asked, “Mr. Darcy, what is our destination today?”
“We travel twenty-four miles and will take lodgings in Dunstable,” he replied.
Georgiana brightened. “Was it not at Dunstable that King Henry had his marriage to Catherine of Aragon annulled? May we see it, Fitzwilliam?”
“You mean the old priory, my dear?” Darcy said. “It was torn down ages ago, mid-fifteenth century, I believe. Only part of the church was left standing after Henry dissolved the monasteries. There isn’t much to see now, but the site is famous since it is where Henry broke with Rome.”
He looked around at the others. “The Five Knolls are nearby, too; those ancient burial mounds have existed since before the Saxons.”
Richard added, “And the shutter telegraph station is up there as well. The Navy uses it to send messages to their ships.”
It was agreed that they would visit both sites. They would drive to Dunstable Downs upon arrival, and view the priory the next morning.
By the fourth day of travel, when the Darcy party reached Pemberley, Elizabeth found herself much at ease in her husband’s company and often forgot her early reserve in his presence.
They had been traveling about an hour on the final day of their journey when Darcy halted the carriage and stepped down.
“Elizabeth, we are now entering our lands. If you look closely, you may see red and fallow deer moving through the woods. We will reach Pemberley soon.” She watched him mount his horse and felt a thrill that he was her husband.
Her eyes followed him until he rode ahead, and she could no longer see him.
She soon realized that the park was very large and contained a great variety of ground.
They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a beautiful wood stretching over a wide extent.
She took in every detail of the countryside as they approached.
The carriage ascended gradually through the trees for nearly half a mile before the wood opened to reveal a sweeping valley below.
Mr. Darcy called the carriage to a halt so they might disembark. He handed Elizabeth down.
“Mrs. Darcy,” he said quietly, “I wish to show you your new home.”
He led her to a small clearing, and there, upon a gentle rise, stood Pemberley House, its graceful stone front reflected in the stream that curved through the grounds. The water followed its natural course; its banks were covered by wild growth rather than trimmed to order.
Elizabeth was silent, her gaze fixed upon the house.
She had never seen a place where nature’s beauty was so perfectly preserved, nor one that spoke so clearly of taste and restraint.
The others exclaimed in admiration, but she could not speak, moved by a feeling she could not name.
In that moment, she began to understand what it meant to be mistress of Pemberley, and how much her husband had entrusted to her.
Her face grew grave. Darcy noticed the change in her expression and moved nearer. “What is it, Elizabeth?”
She bent her head and looked down at her clasped hands. “Sir, you have been very generous in taking me for your wife. I do not deserve such honor, nor such a home as this.”
He rested his chin lightly upon her head, her curls brushing his cheek. “Elizabeth, let me be the judge of who deserves to be my wife and mistress of my home.” He took her hand in his. “Would you like to walk to the house, or shall I hand you back into the carriage?”
She looked out at the scene before her; it seemed to beckon. “I wish to walk in the meadow. I have never seen wildflowers growing in such abundance. Is there a path that runs near the stream?”
He turned to the others. “Mrs. Darcy will walk to the house. Any who wish to join us are welcome.” He looked to his footman. “Peter, take Rowan to the stables.”
Peter and Richard rode on ahead. Jane chose to return to the carriage, while Georgiana and Mary ran down the path. “Come, Mary,” Georgiana called. “Let me show you my tree house. Fitzwilliam had it built for me when I was ten.”
They ran along the path beside the stream. Darcy looked down at his wife. “Do you like it, Elizabeth?”
She nodded. “Very much, sir. I could never have imagined that I, the second daughter of a modest country squire, would become mistress of such a home. How the world must have changed for that to be possible.”
He thought to himself. And how has the world changed so much that I, Fitzwilliam Darcy, should have the great good fortune as to have this lovely woman at my side?
When the newlyweds reached the front entrance of the great stone house, the housekeeper, butler, and the servants stood in readiness to receive their master and his new wife.
Darcy introduced Elizabeth and her sisters to Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, and to Walters, the butler.
Then Elizabeth greeted the servants who stood in two lines as they entered the house.
Her sisters were shown to their rooms by attendants, but Darcy himself escorted his wife to hers.
He entered with her and stood quietly while she surveyed the large bedchamber.
Then he led her to a door that opened into a private sitting room.
“Elizabeth, this is our private salon, and through that door are my chambers. These rooms were also refurbished when my father passed away five years ago. I could not bear to occupy his room as it had been left. It felt as though he might walk through the door at any moment and find me sitting at his desk or sleeping in his bed.”
She glanced toward the far door that connected his room to the rest of the suite. “May I see your chambers?” she asked.
He was momentarily surprised but offered his arm and led her through the suite into his chamber.
It was larger than the mistress’s room, with dark green walls, leather furnishings, and heavy carpets.
The bed stood high off the floor. A faint thrill ran up her spine.
She was alone in his bedchamber with him.
He noticed the change in her expression. “Is something the matter?”
She flushed. “I was only thinking, sir, that I should need a step stool in order to climb upon this bed.”
He colored slightly. “Ah, yes.”
To dispel the awkward silence, she continued, “Your room is very dignified; the décor is decidedly masculine. I have never before been in a gentleman’s bedchamber, not even my papa’s.”
He smiled. “You forget, you spent the night in mine at Netherfield.”
She laughed. “That does not count. It was a guest room.”
Glancing about, she noticed a tall cabinet of dark wood against one wall, its shelves filled with books.
“Are those your favorites, sir?”
“Yes,” he said, “both mine and my father’s. Come, let me show you where your books will be kept.”
They returned to her chamber, and he crossed to the far side of the room to draw back the heavy drapes.
Sunlight poured in, lighting a small sitting area with a couch and two chairs.
Elizabeth touched the soft fabric, then sat in the stuffed chair.
“I find this very comfortable. It compares favorably to the one in my father’s study. ”
She then noticed the shelves filled with books and rose to read the titles.
One section contained poetry. She read aloud, “Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Pope, Blake, Burns, and Wordsworth.” Another shelf held novels, another histories, and still others works on the sciences, botany, medicine, astronomy, and geology.
Turning to her husband, she asked, “Was your mother a bluestocking, sir?”
He smiled. “I suppose she was, Elizabeth. I never thought of it before. She did not come to my father as one, but she became so after their marriage. We spent many hours reading and studying together. I have telescopes that we used to study the constellations. There is a stair leading to the roof where we would spread pillows and blankets and observe the stars.”
He looked pleased at the memory. “Richard remembers my mother as proud, very like my aunt Catherine and my uncle Henry, but I remember her sitting in this room reading, or downstairs in the library listening to my father read aloud while she worked her embroidery or tatting. Perhaps she behaved differently among her family or acquaintances in town.”
His complexion darkened, and Elizabeth saw color rise to his cheekbones.
Something had troubled him. She studied his face until his eyes turned to her.
“That was what happened to me at the assembly in Meryton,” he said quietly.
“I am uncomfortable in large gatherings, and being the center of attention makes me ill at ease.”
She hummed, and he looked at her curiously.
“Forgive me. I did not mean to interrupt, but I was remembering the whispers that were circulating that night; Mr. Bingley was worth five thousand a year, while you were worth ten. I did not see it then, but now that I know you better, I understand. I imagine anyone would feel uneasy being the subject of so much conjecture.”
He continued. “I prefer to listen rather than speak. I do not possess the talent of conversing easily with strangers. I cannot adopt their tone or appear interested in matters that do not concern me, as others seem able to do. When Bingley pressed me to ask a stranger to dance, I said those foolish things that I am too ashamed to repeat.” His gaze held hers, earnest and regretful.
“It served its purpose, for he left me alone, but at a cost I may never fully repay.”
Elizabeth waited in silence. He flushed more deeply.
“And now you are probably wondering about the second insult. Of what could have caused me to say that I would as soon call your mother a wit, rather than admit you a beauty. I am sorry, Elizabeth. I am not at my best around Caroline Bingley. She had been teasing me about you. One day, I paid you a compliment in her hearing, praising your fine eyes, and she never let me forget it. In my frustration, one Sunday after church, her teasing was relentless, and those wretched words escaped me. You have seen for yourself how often she has used my foolish words to divide us.”
He looked at her and saw that her eyes were bright with moisture; she was struggling to keep from weeping.
He offered her his handkerchief, and still silent, she dried her eyes.
He stood beside her, waiting, uncertain whether she would send him away for having been the cause of the many public humiliations she endured.
But she did not. When she had composed herself, she changed the subject.
“Will you send my books up to this room? I will go through your mother’s books, and any I decide not to keep I shall place in the trunk so they may be returned to the library.” Her expression brightened. “May we see the library now, sir?”
He relaxed. His wife was of a mind to forgive him or at least overlook his failings. Walking to the door, he opened it for her. She stepped into the corridor, and he followed.