Chapter 14
Elizabeth and Mrs Cooper travelled almost in silence for several miles on their way to Pemberley, when, finally, Mrs Cooper spoke, inviting Elizabeth to look from the window.
“We are nearly there, my dear. We shall now ascend for half a mile, and then find ourselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceases. I have instructed our coachman to stop there. Believe me, it is worth descending from the carriage to admire the view.”
In spite of her resolution, Elizabeth’s heart trembled with expectation, as it did whenever she went to the theatre or to a ball. The same thrill, the same eager anticipation.
Once alighted, at the summit of the hill, her eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road, with some abruptness, wound.
She scarcely breathed, so wholly was she absorbed by the scene before her, and, whatever she might tell herself, that excitement could not be subdued.
It was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high, woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, yet without any artificial appearance.
Its banks were neither formal nor uselessly adorned. She was delighted.
Elizabeth looked towards Mrs Cooper, who had been watching her for some time. It was an unreadable look, yet she could not help attempting an interpretation.
“You look at me as though to understand what sort of woman I am, refusing this?” She gestured towards the imposing building.
“No, not in the least; I look at you with admiration. Besides, it was a man you refused, not a house.”
“Many women think only of…the house. Pray do not mistake me. I know you were married to men chosen by your parents; far be it from me to judge.”
It was not a fair day. It had rained since morning; while they had paused to admire the house, a ray of sunlight broke through the clouds, though it lasted only a moment. They had scarcely time to regain the carriage before a sudden gust, accompanied by heavy rain, overtook them.
The rain did not abate. When they arrived before the house, they were obliged to wait for the servants to conduct them with umbrellas to the hall.
Elizabeth entered first and found him there, just within the entrance, waiting for their arrival.
She shook a few drops from her gown, and only then raised her eyes to him.
For a moment, she did not doubt her reception; the house, the scene, everything had prepared her to feel at ease, and she almost smiled.
But the illusion vanished as quickly as it had arisen when she heard him say:
“This rain! It was well you came by carriage.”
The words recalled, unbidden, Jane’s journey in the rain; Elizabeth felt the colour rise and fall again at once.
The day, which she had expected to be merely agreeable, not glorious, was at once overcast. She looked at him with cold eyes and hoped he perceived the anger in them.
Instead of welcoming her, she felt herself almost dismissed.
Then Mrs Cooper entered, and from another room came a young lady who bore a striking resemblance to Darcy, and the colonel, who looked at her, hoping to see some sign of recognition; but at that moment it was impossible for Elizabeth to smile.
She glanced back towards the entrance, and felt certain that, had she not been with Mrs Cooper, had she been with anyone else, she would have turned back at once, quitted the house, left Pemberley, and, above all, withdrawn from his life.
With some effort, Elizabeth recovered herself sufficiently to be gracious when Miss Darcy was presented to her. Then, to her relief, they were both conducted by the young lady into the drawing room, where several persons were already assembled, while the colonel detained Darcy by the sleeve.
“Has something happened?” In truth, he could scarcely believe that anything could have occurred in the few moments during which Darcy and Miss Elizabeth had been alone in the hall—if indeed they had been alone at all.
He was more inclined to suppose that she was still influenced by resentment… but then, why had she come?
“I am an idiot,” said Darcy in a low voice, and his cousin required no further explanation.
In a few moments, he had contrived to restore between them something of the torment that had prevailed at the Parsonage; yet what could he have said that was so ill-judged?
There was no time, however, to enquiry further, and they returned to the drawing room, where the introductions were already taking place.
And while Mrs Cooper was in the highest spirits, Elizabeth struggled to forget what had passed and to imagine herself merely on an ordinary visit, to take pleasure in the beauty of the place and, perhaps, in the elegant dinner that was to follow.
“I am so very glad to know you,” said Miss Darcy, who had not left her side. “My brother has spoken to me of you; he wishes me to follow your example.”
Elizabeth turned towards her in surprise. Could the same man who had spoken so well of her be the one who had offended her at the very entrance of his house? What sort of man received his guests in such a manner?
“I do not believe I deserve such praise.”
“On the contrary, I am certain that you do. My brother is very sparing in his commendation; it was for that reason that, when he told me you were staying in Derby, I hoped we might see one another more often.”
Elizabeth drew a deep breath, feeling she was on the point of telling her how unlikely that must be, but the young lady was entirely blameless.
She looked at her and smiled instead of replying, observing her more closely.
She was a child. She imagined her beside Lydia; they were nearly of an age, yet beside her, Lydia seemed a woman.
Without intending it, she saw Lydia as she appeared in society, entirely unrestrained, flirting with every gentleman, her mother taking such pleasure in gossip and then that unfortunate incident, when Jane had been sent out in the rain—certainly it had not been her fault, but their mother’s—and yet, how could she deny that her mother had, in truth, intended that Jane should not return that evening from Netherfield?
It was true, but it did not justify the unkindness with which he had received her in his own house. And if it had not been unkindness, but merely irony, that too was inexcusable.
“Would you like to see the rose garden?” asked Miss Darcy, and Elizabeth immediately assented.
The young lady led her towards one of the tall window-doors which opened upon a terrace overlooking the rose garden, now in its full beauty.
The terrace descended by a few steps into the garden below, but was otherwise enclosed by a white marble parapet, against which they both leaned as they admired the scene.
“Oh, what an exquisite fragrance,” exclaimed Elizabeth.
“Yes, in the evening, the scent is stronger. It is a pleasure to sit here. My mother laid out the garden, and I always hope we may keep it as beautiful.”
The sweetness of the air recalled Longbourn.
If she stood at the open window of her father’s library, the same fragrance had often delighted her.
At times, he would come to stand beside her, that they might enjoy it together.
And now, without closing her eyes, that very perfume seemed to bring him back to her.
His presence calmed her. She was glad she had not been able to leave; it would have been a hasty act, such as she had sometimes committed, and almost always regretted.
Mr Darcy had behaved ill, but Miss Darcy was charming, and Pemberley had won her from the first moment.
They returned to the drawing room, and only then did Elizabeth look more attentively at the other guests.
They were, in general, elegant, and cheerful, and she perceived Mrs Cooper smiling happily in the midst of a group.
She beckoned to her to come near, and, excusing herself to Miss Darcy, approached them.
“My niece,” said Mrs Cooper with pride, and those present greeted her, though they had most likely already been introduced at the beginning.
Finally, Elizabeth felt at ease under the admiring attention of those around her.
She had grown thinner of late, but it became her, and she silently thanked Mrs Gardiner, who had insisted upon her bringing several gowns she had prepared for her, and which now proved invaluable.
She was elegant in a pale violet dress, a refined combination of silk and lace, and her hair was arranged perfectly in a style which Rose had practised with care since their arrival in Derby.
And then, unexpectedly, the colonel appeared beside her and offered his arm to lead her in to dinner.
“It is a great pleasure to meet you here,” he said.
Elizabeth was on the point of replying with irony; still, that same fragrance of roses, which had recalled her father a short time before, restrained her.
The colonel was entirely without blame; irony would have been misplaced, and she would once more have found herself in a needless posture of defence.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said the colonel, in a manner far from formal, yet so warm that she turned towards him, ready to listen. “Pemberley receives you with the greatest pleasure; pray be assured of it.”
“It is beautiful,” she replied with sincerity. It was her intimate feeling, and she wished now to recover that first sensation of delight which had overcome her at the beginning. It was not difficult, the dining room was truly magnificent.
“Miss Elizabeth, I beg you to believe that all you see around is meant to delight you.”
And then she saw Darcy, looking towards her from the head of the table. He stood, waiting for his guests to be seated, while the colonel led her to a place near him.
“Pray take your seat,” said Miss Darcy, and only when all were around the table did she and her brother follow.
Elizabeth was relieved to find that her place was not beside Mr Darcy; she had the colonel at her left and Mrs Cooper on the other side.
It was not a large party—no more than fifteen in all—but there were enough present to allow her to converse with those nearest to her in private, without committing any impropriety.
“Thank you,” whispered Mrs Cooper, her eyes sparkling. “It is delightful!”
And Elizabeth determined then that it was indeed delightful; however, even if she could not entirely escape his gaze, which returned to her again and again.
“Enjoy life, Elizabeth,” she heard her father’s voice. Then, she allowed her eyes to rest in his. She had not forgiven him, but she succeeded in feeling truly at ease.