Chapter 17
“Mr Darcy!” Elizabeth blurted, freezing stock-still on the path and feeling unbearably self-conscious and out of place. “We were told by your housekeeper that you were away from home, and my aunt was so keen to see the house. I never would have trespassed on your privacy had I known you were here.”
“I was out this morning,” said Mr Darcy, his hat respectfully in his hands as he stood before her.
His clothes illustrated the truth of his words, for he was more unkempt than she had ever seen him, his jacket dusty from the road and his thick, dark hair awry.
“I came back. Are you well, Miss Bennet? Are your family well?”
Mr Darcy’s expression was as non-plussed as Elizabeth knew her own must be.
What must he think of her, coming to Pemberley and making free with the house and gardens after her too-severe refusal of his proposal?
Likely, he had hoped never to set eyes on Elizabeth again.
Yet oddly, his face was not displeased. She would have sooner called it eager, a thought that would have seemed absurd, had he not so clearly been doing his utmost to be civil.
“Yes, we are all very well, thank you. I am in Derbyshire on holiday with my aunt and uncle,” Elizabeth told him, gesturing clumsily to the carriage where Mr and Mrs Gardiner waited.
Though knowing herself to be speaking a little too much, it seemed impossible to say less.
“We were to go to the Lake District this summer, but my uncle’s business changed our plans.
We have been touring the Peak District instead. ”
“Are you staying at Lambton?”
“Yes, at the inn.”
“Would you introduce me to your relatives?” Mr Darcy then requested, to Elizabeth’s surprise. She had imagined that he must want her and her party gone as soon as possible. “I should like to know them.”
Too astonished to think of any objection, Elizabeth made the necessary introductions and was surprised all over again at Mr Darcy’s warm and civil greetings to her aunt and uncle.
From their expressions, she could see that he was making a very favourable impression.
Elizabeth bit her lip, knowing that she would have questions to answer later about her own early reports on Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy.
It had been right to decline Mr Darcy’s offer, Elizabeth reminded herself, and even to take him to task about his manner of speaking and for parting Mr Bingley from Jane. Still, how she now wished that she had been more gracious in her refusal!
“We will not detain you further, Mr Darcy,” she said at last, her cheeks burning with the memory of her rash words, especially her ill-informed accusations about Mr Wickham. “We have disturbed your home enough and will leave you in peace now.”
“It has been a pleasure,” he insisted civilly, shaking hands with Elizabeth’s uncle and bowing to her aunt.
Elizabeth curtsied in return of Mr Darcy’s good manners and then found him handing her into the carriage beside her aunt, his fingers warm and strong as they took hers and his deep blue eyes hard to read.
It took an effort not to turn and look back at him as they drove away, sensing that he was still standing there and watching them pass out of sight.
“Mr Darcy was not at all as I had been led to expect,” laughed Mrs Gardiner merrily as the carriage rolled away down the long Pemberley drive. “What a pleasant surprise that was! I rather liked him.”
“What a handsome fellow and very cordial, considering that we came on him unawares,” added Mr Gardiner, with a chuckle of his own. “From his reputation in Hertfordshire, I would have expected to be ignored, if not roasted and thrown out by my ear.”
“He was like another man entirely today,” Elizabeth remarked by way of explanation, her pulse still racing from the encounter. No matter how civilly Mr Darcy had behaved, she could not seem to feel at ease.
“Some men are different at home from when they are abroad,” observed her uncle philosophically.
“Likely he feels more comfortable at Pemberley, and we ought not to be surprised by whatever face he shows. Well, we can say we have seen both the house and the man himself. I count that as a successful day.”
His wife and niece agreed heartily, and the rest of the journey back to their inn was spent in making their plans for the morning.
Yet the surprises of the day were not done. After supper that evening, Mr Darcy actually came to the inn in Lambton to call on Elizabeth and her relations, now properly groomed and attired.
“I hope you will come to Pemberley tomorrow, this time as my guests,” he told them all with a small bow, his eyes catching Elizabeth’s as he raised his head. “I should very much like you to meet my sister, and Georgiana is no less eager for the introduction.”
Seeing the equal eagerness on her uncle and aunt’s faces, Elizabeth accepted with thanks, despite her own reservations and the strange shyness she felt at receiving Mr Darcy’s kindness after all that had passed between them in Hertfordshire and Kent.
She did want to meet young Georgiana after hearing so much about her, and Mr Darcy’s intentions seemed to be good.
“Do you fish, sir?” he then asked her uncle, and on receiving a reply in the affirmative, began arranging to lend him rod and tackle for the trout lake the following day.
“What a capital fellow!” Mr Gardiner exclaimed as Mr Darcy departed the inn.
“Why, Mr Darcy is quite as personable as Mr Wickham, don’t you think, Lizzy?” remarked her aunt. “I would never have guessed it.”
“I fear we may have been too quick to judge the character of both men,” Elizabeth answered before making her excuses and retiring to bed.
∞∞∞
“I must show you my rose garden, Miss Bennet,” Georgiana said eagerly after they had been welcomed to Pemberley with tea and cake and Mr Darcy had taken Mr Gardiner away to the trout lake.
“It belonged to my mother before me, and has ever so many different varieties of roses. You must pick your favourite while you are here and I shall cut one for you to take away.”
“I should like that,” Elizabeth laughed. Georgiana’s youthful enthusiasm was charming. It rather put her in mind of Lydia, though it was thankfully trained on music, books and gardens rather than mischief and flirting with young officers. “You must show me your favourite too, Miss Darcy.”
Georgiana jumped up immediately, eager to rush outside, and Elizabeth matched her pace. While similar to her brother in her dark-haired, blue-eyed colouring, Georgiana’s character seemed to be less self-conscious and more impulsive, perhaps only a natural function of her youth.
“We will follow you down to the gardens,” said Mrs Annesley with a smile to Mrs Gardiner, the two older ladies rising more slowly and walking sedately after the younger. “Do not wait for us.”
It was indeed a beautiful rose garden, and very well cared for. As they walked among the flower beds, Georgiana told Elizabeth that she received regular reports from the Pemberley gardeners while she was away, letting her know which roses were budding, blooming, or needed particular care.
“So, which one do you like best?” Georgiana asked after they had completed a full circle, stopping to inspect and smell many of the roses that were in bloom.
“They are all lovely,” Elizabeth said sincerely. “But if I picked one to take away, maybe, it would be one of those yellow roses that are almost the colour of sunshine.”
“The Belle de Jour,” Georgiana pronounced happily, selecting a stem supporting a not quite open flower and applying her secateurs. “Did you know that all yellow roses come from China originally?”
“I did not,” admitted Elizabeth, taking her flower with pleasure. “I’m afraid that my knowledge of roses cannot compete with yours, Miss Darcy.”
“It’s a way of remembering my mother,” the younger woman admitted with a shy smile. “I’ll always think of her every time I come out here.”
“I’m sure that is how she would like to be remembered,” Elizabeth remarked, warming to Miss Darcy even more with these unsophisticated confidences.
As Elizabeth’s liking for Mr Darcy’s sister grew, so too did her contempt for George Wickham, who had so shamefully abused Georgiana’s naive affections for his own greed. This girl was not even a year older than Lydia.
“You may call me Georgiana, if you wish,” added the younger woman after a short pause. “I feel we know each other quite well already.”
“Thank you, I shall, and you shall call me Elizabeth too, so long as your brother approves, that is.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam approves of most things that make me happy,” Georgiana reassured her with a smile. “When he does not approve, that is how I know the matter is really very serious, and I listen to him. He is generally the best brother in the world.”
“Your confidence does Mr Darcy credit,” replied Elizabeth, surprised but pleased to hear what Georgiana said.
She had not imagined Mr Darcy as an indulgent or affectionate guardian. Clearly, she had been wrong. His younger sister not only held him in high regard, but from what Elizabeth had seen of the two of them together that day, Georgiana genuinely loved him.
Likely Elizabeth’s uncle was right, and Mr Darcy was quite a different person in his own home and with his own family. Why this should be so was still mystifying, but then so much else was too, when it came to Mr Darcy.
“Now, which rose is your favourite, Georgiana?” Elizabeth asked, moving on from this personal puzzle.
“My favourite is different every year. This year I think it is the Great Double White, the roses on the tall bush here. Doesn’t it smell wonderful?”
“It does,” Elizabeth agreed. “What a beautiful scent!”
The secateurs came out again, and Georgiana soon had her rose too. They were about to stroll over to the wooden bench where Mrs Annesley and Mrs Gardiner were talking comfortably together, and offer them the chance to choose roses, when Mr Darcy appeared.