Chapter Eighteen #2
She curtsied, then stepped onto the sun-warmed steps.
Below, the gravel path wound through the rose garden, where early buds blushed pink and ivory, and bees hummed among their petals.
Leaving the roses behind, she wandered past the neatly strung kitchen gardens and out towards the west lawn.
A placid lake mirrored the pale sky, its glassy surface broken by darting dragonflies and the ripple of a fish breaking the stillness.
Deciding a full circuit would detain her too long, she turned back towards the manor.
Just as the columns of the portico rose into view, the sound of wheels on gravel drifted to her ears. Startled delight quickened her heart when she recognised the gilded crest on the carriage door, and she hastened up the path to meet her unexpected visitor.
“Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed, breathless, as the carriage door swung open and he alighted from the plush carriage.
His black coat was cut precisely to his tall frame, and the linen of his cravat gleamed against his breast. “What brings you to Tetherwood? I had thought you would be at Pemberley by now.”
He offered a brief, courteous bow, his dark eyes steady. “Lady Elizabeth,” he replied, voice low and earnest, “I took a small detour. I have yet to speak with your father about our fledging courtship. I dislike acting without his knowledge and wished to declare my intentions in person.”
Elizabeth’s heart raced at his sentiment. She had attempted several times to broach the subject, but had no wish to be mercilessly teased by her father.
“Then, I am delighted you are here,” she said, meeting his gaze. “For I, too, wish to have Father’s blessing and consent.”
Darcy gave a few instructions to his driver and valet before turning back to Elizabeth and offering his arm. She slipped hers through his willingly as they climbed the sun-warmed steps, and the door swung open silently before them when they reached the top.
“Thank you, Nelson,” Elizabeth said as they entered the cool dim of the entrance hall. “Please inform Mrs. Clarke that our guest will require a room for the night, and prepare quarters for his valet as well.” She paused and looked at Darcy. “You will stay the night, perhaps a few days?”
“At the very least one night,” he replied. “The rest depends on your father.”
“Where is my father?” Elizabeth asked the butler, whose eyes moved between them with quiet interest.
“Lord Rumley is in the library, my lady.”
“Why did I ask?” she murmured with a soft laugh, turning towards the main staircase, its broad mahogany banister gleaming in the light from the tall windows above.
“I believe Mamma has threatened to lock the library permanently if he does not show his face for at least one hour a day, other than to dine.”
Darcy hesitated on the first step. “You may not wish to invite him to Pemberley, then...” He trailed off as Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the implication. “Forgive my presumption.”
“No apology necessary,” she assured him gently, resuming their ascent. “You warned me in Kent of the depth of your feelings, and I am pleased to admit that I am not far behind with mine.”
They had reached the landing, where Danvers waited with her customary stillness. Elizabeth surrendered her bonnet and gloves, while a footman relieved Mr. Darcy of his coat and hat.
“Did you wish to refresh yourself before I take you to Papa?”
“We stopped at an inn a few miles from here. I did not wish to waste any time once I arrived.”
“You are methodical, I will grant you that.”
“I am determined to make a good impression.”
“I must caution you,” Elizabeth said, lowering her voice as they moved along the portrait-lined corridor towards the library. “Papa has not seen you since last November, and your conduct in Hertfordshire left a great deal to be desired.”
“I am aware.”
“He knows you played a part in drawing Mr. Bingley away from Netherfield and Jane.”
“Which, as it turned out, proved a blessing.”
“When one has the advantage of hindsight, you are correct,” Elizabeth conceded, pausing before the library door.
“At the time, we had no inkling of Bingley’s looming financial troubles.
Your choice, based on your view of my family’s connections, felt like a deliberate slight.
That was noted and discussed thoroughly between my father and me. ”
“Are you saying he may not give his consent?”
“I am saying that he remembers you only as the dour gentleman from Derbyshire. Not the man I came to know in Kent and London.”
“Then, I may as well call my carriage and leave.”
“You would leave without so much as speaking to my father?” Elizabeth stopped walking and looked up at Darcy, the colour rising in her cheeks. “Am I not worthy of a difficult discussion?”
“No – that is, yes. Of course, you are.” He released her arm and took several paces before turning back to face her. “I cannot recall my conduct in Hertfordshire without abhorrence. I behaved in an ungentlemanly manner and am only now beginning to acknowledge fully what it may cost me.”
“Fitzwilliam…” Elizabeth began, only to be interrupted.
“Show Mr. Darcy in, Elizabeth,” came her father’s voice from the doorframe of the library, its dark wood panels visible behind him. “I shall take this from here.”
She looked from her father to Darcy, who had drawn himself up to his full height, shoulders squared, his jaw set, hands clasped behind his back.
She could not quite decide whether to laugh or weep.
Here stood a man braced for resistance, fully expecting to have his pride handed back to him on a platter along with a firm refusal for any relationship with a much-loved daughter.
“Papa,” she began, only to have her father lift an imperious brow, the lines of his face arranging themselves into an expression she had known since childhood to be immovable. She held his gaze for one long minute, then conceded with a slight nod. “I shall be in the family parlour.”
A curt nod from her father was all she received from him, while Mr. Darcy’s gaze lingered on her before he lifted his chin and followed her father into the library, closing the door behind him.