7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Elizabeth woke slowly, aware first of birds singing outside.
Light peeked through the curtains, a summer morning glow distilled by shade trees.
One curtain had drifted loose from its tie during the night, and sunlight fell in a broad golden stripe across the carpet near the bed.
Somewhere below the windows, gravel crunched beneath wheels.
Voices carried faintly upward through the open casement.
A dog barked once and was answered from farther off near the stable yard, an occurrence Elizabeth was coming to associate with the rhythm of the estate.
For several delightful seconds she lay still without remembering where she was.
Then the previous day’s memories came rushing back.
Elizabeth pushed herself upright too quickly and caught the edge of the coverlet in her hand.
Her room, bright and spacious in daylight, no longer possessed the half-unreal quality it had held the previous evening.
She had truly slept beneath Mr. Darcy’s roof.
A maid had unpacked her gowns. Lydia occupied the adjoining chamber and had laughed herself nearly breathless before bed over the notion that she might become “intimate friends with Derbyshire’s greatest heiresses” if she remained long enough.
Outside the door came quick footsteps and the murmur of servants going about their day.
The sounds ought to have made her uncomfortable. She was, after all, a guest in one of the greatest houses in Derbyshire, dependent upon the generosity of a man she had once accused of ungentlemanlike behavior with considerable conviction.
She sat beneath the canopy a moment longer before getting out of bed.
A maid appeared within moments of ringing the bell.
With Sally’s help, she dressed more attentively than usual and disliked herself for it.
By the time she descended, the house already smelled faintly of coffee, fresh bread, and polished wood warmed by sunlight.
Several windows along the corridor stood open to the gardens. Curtains moved lazily in the breeze.
A footman directed her toward the breakfast room before she could lose herself among the passages. He did so respectfully and without stiffness, in a manner suggesting it was usual to have guests wandering unfamiliar corridors before breakfast.
Perhaps they did.
On their first full morning at Pemberley, the house already felt less intimidating than it had upon their arrival.
The breakfast room overlooked the east lawn.
Mrs. Gardiner sat near one window pouring tea while Mr. Gardiner read a letter beside a dish of apricots.
Lydia occupied the place nearest Miss Darcy and was whispering something energetic enough to make Georgiana press her lips together in visible struggle.
Elizabeth paused in the doorway.
Lydia had known Miss Darcy less than a day. Already they behaved like girls sharing secrets at school.
“Lizzy!” Lydia waved a butter knife in greeting before Mrs. Gardiner made her set it down. “You are late. Miss Darcy has been explaining the horrors of fashionable dinners.”
Georgiana giggled. “I merely said they are tiring.”
“She says one must sit perfectly straight for hours while people discuss acquaintances one has never met.” Lydia reached for jam. “I would expire.”
“You would not survive half an hour,” Elizabeth replied, taking the chair beside her aunt.
Lydia affected cheerfulness at the accusation. “Likely not.”
Miss Darcy turned toward Elizabeth with more confidence than she had shown the previous day. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Miss Darcy.”
“Georgiana,” Lydia corrected instantly. “You cannot continue saying Miss Darcy when she is practically my dearest friend.”
Mrs. Gardiner lowered her teacup. “Lydia.”
“What? She is.”
Color rose in Georgiana’s cheeks, though not unpleasantly. “I do not object.”
“That settles it,” Lydia declared.
Elizabeth shifted her attention from one girl to the other and abandoned the attempt at propriety. Resistance would encourage Lydia further.
Mr. Gardiner folded his letter. “Where is our host this morning?”
“He rode out before breakfast,” Georgiana answered. “One of the tenant cottages near Kympton requires repairs after the storms last month. Mr. Harding wished to review the accounts with him.”
Lydia blinked. “Your brother personally inspects roofs?”
“Generally, yes.”
“I thought wealthy men merely pointed at things and servants hurried away to manage them.”
Mr. Gardiner smiled into his coffee.
Georgiana smiled more openly this time. “My brother prefers to know what is being done.”
“Very inconvenient of him,” Lydia replied. “If I possessed ten thousand a year, I should never inspect anything disagreeable.”
“You would inspect gowns,” Elizabeth said.
Lydia considered this and nodded. “And officers.”
Mrs. Gardiner sighed.
The conversation drifted elsewhere, though Elizabeth’s attention lingered unexpectedly upon Georgiana’s answer.
She had never imagined Darcy among damaged cottages and estate accounts.
At Netherfield, he had appeared detached from practical life altogether when socializing, moving through assemblies and drawing rooms with the reserve of a man enduring necessary society until he might escape it.
She could not reconcile that memory of him at the Meryton assembly with muddy boots and roofing accounts. She reached for toast and told herself the distinction ought not matter.
It mattered anyway.
Breakfast continued with interruptions from Lydia, who demanded to know whether Pemberley possessed secret passages, whether Georgiana had ever hidden from callers, and whether all large estates contained “at least one tragic family portrait.”
“There is an ancestor in the gallery who frightens children,” Georgiana admitted.
Lydia leaned forward eagerly. “Which one?”
“Admiral Darcy. He lost an eye.”
“Oh, excellent.”
Mr. Gardiner shook his head over his coffee. “You will disappoint every respectable relation you possess before twenty.”
Lydia scoffed. “Just the tiresome ones.”
The doors opened before Mrs. Gardiner could answer.
Darcy entered; a large dog followed him halfway into the room before a servant coaxed it gently back into the hall.
Horace seemed unconvinced by the decision.
Darcy apologized for his absence before anyone could remark upon it. “Harding kept me longer than expected. Good morning.”
Conversation changed when he entered, though perhaps because Lydia began speaking louder. Darcy greeted the Gardiners first, and Miss Lydia, then his sister. When his attention reached Elizabeth, there was no uncertain start, no visible self-consciousness. His voice lowered a little.
“Miss Bennet.”
“Mr. Darcy.”
Lydia watched both of them with shameless interest while buttering toast.
Darcy took a seat and began a conversation with Mr. Gardiner, who asked after the cottages. Elizabeth expected a brief answer. Instead, Darcy explained the matter with practical clarity.
“The western roofs should have been replaced two years ago,” he said, accepting coffee from a footman. “Harding delayed because several tenants insisted they could manage another season. Last month’s rain settled the question.”
Mr. Gardiner nodded. “And the expense?”
“Manageable, provided the timber arrives before autumn.”
Lydia was intrigued despite herself. “Do tenants often argue with you?”
Darcy addressed her seriously. “Frequently.”
“And you permit it?”
“When they are correct.”
“That sounds very inconvenient also.” She frowned and reached for another piece of toast.
A laugh escaped Georgiana before she hid it behind her napkin.
Darcy was startled by the sound. Elizabeth noticed because she had been watching him already.
One of the servants approached quietly to murmur something regarding a missing key. Darcy answered without impatience, remembered the man’s name before the sentence ended, and asked after the servant’s wife, who apparently remained unwell from a fever.
The exchange lasted less than a minute.
Elizabeth reached for her coffee purely to avoid studying him again. No assembly room existed here. No one applauded men for discussing drainage repairs before breakfast. He simply knew these things.
Lydia interrupted her thoughts by leaning toward Darcy across the table. “Georgiana tells me you inspect sheep also.”
Darcy took a sip of coffee. “On occasion.”
“Why?”
“Because they belong to the estate.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That is a terrible answer.”
Mr. Gardiner laughed loudly enough to startle Horace in the hall.
Darcy was almost amused. “Would you prefer a more entertaining one?”
“Yes.”
“I inspect them because one ram once chased me into a stream.”
Lydia stared.
Georgiana groaned. “Fitzwilliam.”
“It is true.”
His sister frowned. “You never told me that.”
“You were ten.”
Lydia burst into delighted laughter. “Oh, I like Derbyshire vastly better already.”
Elizabeth covered her mouth with one hand, unable to help smiling. Their eyes met for the briefest instant before he returned his attention to his breakfast.
She spent the next several minutes attempting not to think about it and failed completely.
The morning divided naturally after breakfast ended.
Mr. Gardiner decided to take some rods and tackle and try his luck with Pemberley’s fish population.
Aunt Gardiner wished to write letters. Lydia dragged Georgiana outdoors under the pretense of showing her how to skip stones across the stream despite possessing no skill whatsoever.
Mr. Darcy left the house to see to some estate business.
Elizabeth escaped toward the library. The room stood empty when she entered, though one window remained open, and a coat lay over the back of a chair near the writing table.
Papers occupied part of the large central desk in orderly stacks.
A map had been weighted flat beneath two books.
Beside it rested an abandoned cup of coffee gone cold.
Darcy’s handwriting crossed several sheets in quick dark lines.