Chapter 8 #4
“How did you resolve the kitchen dispute?”
Elizabeth explained her solution, watching his face for signs of approval or criticism. To her relief, he nodded with satisfaction.
“You have a talent for finding middle ground that allows all parties to maintain dignity.”
“I find most people respond better to reasoned compromise than to arbitrary authority. Even in matters as trivial as fish sauce.”
Darcy’s mouth quirked. “A philosophy that might benefit estate management more broadly. I confess I have sometimes been too rigid in my expectations.”
“Perhaps together we may achieve a more balanced approach?”
“Perhaps we shall.” Darcy rose from the desk, joining her near the windows. “Would you care to walk the grounds this afternoon? There are features of the park I believe would interest you.”
“I would enjoy that very much.”
The afternoon passed pleasantly as they wandered paths that wound through immaculate gardens before transitioning to more naturalistic woodlands.
Darcy proved an informative guide, pointing out improvements made by various generations and explaining the principles behind the beauty of the designed landscape.
“My great-grandfather commissioned Capability Brown to redesign much of what you see. The previous formal gardens were swept away in favor of this more natural approach.”
“He succeeded brilliantly. It appears uncontrived, yet every view is pleasing.”
“That was his intention—to create a landscape engineered to direct the eye and evoke specific emotional responses, yet appearing to have always existed in this form.”
“Rather like the best conversation, which appears effortless yet requires careful attention to one’s companion’s interests and reactions.”
Darcy looked at her with surprise that shifted to thoughtful appreciation. “An apt comparison. I had not considered landscape design in such terms before.”
They continued their walk, circling back toward the house as the afternoon light began to soften toward evening. Near the kitchen gardens, they encountered a group of workers constructing what appeared to be additional housing at the edge of the estate buildings.
“New quarters for some of the outdoor staff. The existing accommodations had become inadequate for those with families.”
“A sensible improvement.” As they passed closer, however, she noticed deficiencies in the design that concerned her. “Though I wonder if additional windows might be beneficial? Those northern rooms will receive very little light or air as currently planned.”
Darcy stopped, studying the construction with sudden attention to this detail. “You are right. The original plans included more windows, but they appear to have been modified during execution.”
He strode toward the building site, Elizabeth following with interest. The foreman hurried to greet them, deferential yet proud of the work in progress.
“Michaels, there is a discrepancy between the approved plans and the current construction. The north-facing rooms should have additional windows to improve light and ventilation.”
The foreman looked uncomfortable. “Yes, sir, they were in the original drawings. But Mr. Burns suggested we reduce them to save on glass and framing costs. Said the expense was not justified for staff quarters.”
Darcy’s expression hardened. “Burns overstepped his authority in altering approved plans without consultation. The windows will be installed as originally intended.”
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” The foreman touched his cap, recognizing the master’s displeasure.
As they continued toward the house, Elizabeth ventured a question. “Who is Mr. Burns?”
“The assistant steward. Competent in many respects but occasionally overzealous in reducing expenditures where tenant and staff welfare is concerned.”
After a moment, he added, “I am glad you noticed the windows. Proper light and air make such a difference to health and comfort.”
That evening, as they dined together in the family dining room, Elizabeth was conscious of a subtle shift in their relationship.
The initial awkwardness that had characterized their arrival had given way to comfortable companionship, though she sensed there were matters yet concealed that could imperil the heretofore easy companionship of the homecoming.
“I received a letter from Jane today,” she mentioned as they lingered over dessert. “She writes that Mr. Bingley has returned to Netherfield from town, as he intended.”
“Has he called at Longbourn?” Darcy’s tone was carefully neutral though his eyes revealed interest.
“The very day after his arrival, according to Jane.” Elizabeth smiled, recalling her sister’s carefully worded but obvious pleasure at this development. “She reports that he stayed above an hour and invited them all to dine at Netherfield next week when he is properly resettled.”
Darcy nodded. “I am glad to hear it. Bingley deserves happiness, and your sister will make him an excellent wife, should their attachment progress as I expect it will.”
Such relief she found in this declaration, she could scarcely acknowledge. “Thank you. I believe they will suit extremely well.”
Later, as twilight deepened into darkness, they retired to the library where Darcy read correspondence while Elizabeth composed a letter to Jane describing her first impressions of Pemberley. The companionable silence between them felt natural rather than strained.
As she sealed her letter, Elizabeth studied her husband covertly. The firelight cast his strong features into relief, softening the austere lines of his countenance.
He must have sensed her regard, for he looked up. “Is something amiss?”
“Not at all. I was thinking how well you suit this place. Or perhaps how well it suits you.”
“We are shaped by our environments as much as we shape them. Even when I am elsewhere, it remains my true north.”
“And now I am part of it, through the strangest sequence of circumstances imaginable.”
Darcy set aside his papers, his full attention now on her. “Do you regret it? Our hasty marriage, forced by scandal rather than chosen in proper time?”
The directness of the question caught Elizabeth by surprise. She considered her answer carefully, unwilling to offer facile reassurance yet reluctant to wound him with excessive honesty.
“I regret the lack of choice, for both of us. But I cannot regret the outcome, not now that I have come to know you better.” She hesitated before adding, “And certainly not now that I have seen Pemberley.”
The teasing in her tone drew that rare smile from him. “Ah, so it is my estate rather than my person that reconciles you to our match?”
“Naturally. What woman could resist ten thousand a year and such a park?”
Darcy rose from his desk, crossing to where she sat by the fire. “Though I had hoped my other qualities might have some small influence on your developing regard.”
The warmth in his voice sent a familiar thrill through Elizabeth’s body, reminiscent of their nights in London yet somehow deeper here at Pemberley, where Darcy was most himself.
“They may have some small influence. Your library is exceptional, after all.”
Darcy laughed.