What Happened After Lambton (Darcy and Elizabeth: Paths to Understanding #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Fitzwilliam Darcy was tired. Since April, when he had proposed marriage to Elizabeth Bennet—and she had soundly rejected him— Darcy had been unable to sleep well.

Dreams of her kept him awake. Travelling for several days in company with Caroline Bingley had not helped the matter any.

Her constant attempts to ingratiate herself to him and Georgiana, along with her nearly pleading to ride in the carriage along with his sister, was driving him to distraction.

His curt answers did little to dissuade her, but he held firm and had thus far managed not to ride in a carriage with her for any part of the trip.

He would need to apologise profusely to Georgiana later for subjecting her to Miss Bingley’s company, and he needed to find a way to cut the connection to her without also cutting his connection to Bingley.

However, he had begun to realise that until Miss Bingley married someone else, she would continue to attempt to attach herself to him.

He wondered if his own marriage could even stop that harpy’s behaviour toward him.

He would not be surprised if she continued to act that way even after his vows were said.

With that in mind, he had knocked on his sister’s door almost before the sun rose, telling her he would ride ahead of the party to arrive at Pemberley that day.

The rest of the party would still arrive tomorrow, but he would handle some ‘pressing’ matters so he could give his full attention to their guests once they arrived.

Georgiana nodded, seeming to recognise his need for escape, and whispered her acknowledgement.

She knew Miss Bingley’s attentions were frustrating her brother and thought he might need some distance from her.

Her fawning behaviour seemed worse than usual on this trip, and she wondered what had caused her brother to be so out of sorts.

He had not been himself since he returning from Hertfordshire the previous autumn.

It had grown worse for a time after he returned from Kent—he had seemed nearly hopeless then.

But something seemed to change, and while he still appeared sad, there was a marked difference in him.

At times, Georgiana thought he seemed heartbroken, but he was far kinder and gentler, particularly to those outside the family.

She knew her brother to be a good man who treated his servants and tenants well, but he had always been somewhat detached.

Now, she heard him enquiring after their health and speaking to servants and others with more respect than he had previously done.

By mid-afternoon, Darcy had reached the turnoff from Lambton into Pemberley’s long drive.

He had ridden hard and was hot, sweaty, and dusty.

As he approached the house, he slowed, briefly considering how much better this homecoming would have been if he had succeeded in winning Elizabeth’s hand.

When he thought he had been courting her in Kent, he had often thought about how much he wanted to show her his home and how much she would have enjoyed Pemberley.

At least, he hoped his letter affected how she thought of him.

Perhaps, with a great deal of luck, she had thought a little bit better of him after reading it.

He shook his head, trying to clear it from thoughts of her.

He did not expect ever to see her again, but he was determined to be a better man—for her sake, as much as for his own.

He crested the hill that brought him to the view of the house he had dreamt of showing Elizabeth.

He imagined standing behind her as she viewed the prospect of her seeing Pemberley for the first time, with the sun shining on its windows, reflected in the lake in front of it.

She would appreciate the wildness of it, the lack of formality in its gardens, and how they had encouraged nature instead of stifling it.

He instinctively knew she would love it.

“Stop it,” he commanded himself as he tried to regain his focus on what needed to be done upon his arrival.

Darcy looked again toward the house and noticed a carriage in the drive and several people walking through the gardens.

Even from this distance, one visitor reminded him of Elizabeth.

But, of course, the problem with that was that he had seen Elizabeth everywhere of late.

Still … he headed in that direction. It could not hurt to get a little closer just to see, although he was sure to be disappointed once again.

She had no reason to be at Pemberley, after all.

Elizabeth was touring the gardens of Pemberley with her aunt and uncle.

Her aunt had grown up in the small village of Lambton, and they had brought her along on this trip to visit with her family and friends.

The previous evening, when she had first suggested visiting Pemberley, Elizabeth had demurred.

However, her aunt kept insisting, and the innkeeper and maid both assured them that the family was not in residence.

Once they arrived, the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, told them that both Mr. and Miss Darcy were expected to arrive tomorrow.

Elizabeth’s emotions were torn—she felt relieved to have missed him, but a part of her yearned to see him again and apologise for the harsh words she had spoken to him that night in Kent.

After reading his letter many times, she knew now that he had not deserved any of what she had condemned him of that night.

During their tour of the manor, the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds had painted her master in glowing terms. “The best master, the best landlord, the best brother,” she had said.

“Never heard a cross word from him in my life” was another accolade she offered the guests.

Elizabeth listened to every word of praise the housekeeper spoke and tried to reconcile these words with the haughty and taciturn man that she had known in both Meryton and Kent.

Mrs. Reynolds acknowledged that some called him proud, though she seemed to consider him as reticent rather than arrogant, and Elizabeth understood one more piece of his character.

She had seen that side of him, the one reluctant to speak in company, and wrongly attributed it to arrogance.

The head gardener took charge of them as they left the house and showed them the gardens that were open to the public.

She ambled behind the rest, not really seeing anything but once again reliving moments of her acquaintance with Mr. Darcy and chastising herself for her foolishness.

Not for rejecting him—she knew she had not been wrong for that given the way he had stated his proposal, if nothing else—but for her failure to understand the man in all his depths.

As she had been doing often over the last several months, she reflected again on how she had misinterpreted him throughout their acquaintance.

Perhaps if she had understood him better, she would have been able to develop feelings that would have made it more acceptable for her to have agreed to his proposal.

Lost in these thoughts, she started when she heard her name spoken by a voice she never expected to hear again.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” Mr. Darcy called softly. “Is that you?”

She turned, gasping and putting her hand to her chest in her surprise.

“Mr. Darcy,” she cried, her face registering her shock.

She cast a quick glance downward, her cheeks turning bright red.

“I am so sorry, sir; they told us in town that the family was not in residence for the summer. I would have never presumed …” She faltered, not quite knowing what to say next.

She mumbled then: “I know you must detest the very sight of me, sir.” I will collect my aunt and uncle, and we will leave immediately.

I apologise for presuming to visit when you were away, but my aunt insisted on seeing it again. ”

He just stared at her, not taking in her words but simply drinking in the sight of her. The silence lasted several moments, and when his silence became too much, she curtsied and hurried away. She did not look up at him, afraid of seeing the anger that she was sure must be in his eyes and face.

Her movement shook him alert. What did she say? he thought. “Eliz … Miss Bennet, wait, please.” He strode after her and caught her elbow before she could take more than a few steps away. “You will always be welcome at Pemberley. Whatever do you mean that I must hate the sight of you?”

“After our last meeting, sir, I could not imagine you would want to see me again, especially here, at your home,” Elizabeth said, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“My words that evening were so intemperate. I … I have regretted much about that evening; I am afraid I allowed my temper to get the best of me. After reading your letter, well, I, I realised that … well, suffice it to say I am not as good a judge of character as I once thought.”

“Miss Bennet, please look at me,” he pleaded.

She raised her eyes to his, and he let out his breath.

“I also have many regrets about that night. I…,” he sighed.

“You were not wrong; I deserved much of what you said to me then. I have been arrogant and rude and must also beg your forgiveness for my hateful words that night and even for my attitude when writing that letter. Although I thought I was calm, I was still angry when I wrote it. While I feel many things and have felt many things since that night, hating you never once entered my mind.”

Elizabeth drew a sharp breath, but her eyes, now locked with his, did not waver. “What have you felt?” she enquired breathlessly.