Page 17

N o woman had ever visited Pemberley.

At least, not in the context of becoming its mistress.

Not even Anne de Bourgh had walked through these rooms with him, making plans for when the house would be her home.

Anne always considered it a long journey from her parents’ place just outside of Nashville to the “wilderness of Kentucky,” as her mother had put it.

Darcy didn’t force the issue, as he was busy with college and making arrangements for Georgiana.

Summer became winter—the time slipped away from him, and then Anne slipped away too.

From time to time, Darcy had caught Caroline Bingley surveying the house with an appraising eye, but that was different. He had no investment in her opinions, no interest in her approval.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, he very much wanted to please.

“William, stop pacing,” Georgiana said as she assembled a tray with coffee and petit fours. “You’re making me nervous, and I like Elizabeth.”

“I’m not pacing. I keep thinking of things to check.”

“Mrs. Reynolds has anticipated you, sir,” she teased. “There is nothing left to check.”

“I suppose you are right.”

“Mm-hmm.” She added some lacy napkins to the tray.

“It’s not as if I’m trying to impress her.”

Georgiana smiled to herself.

“I do want her to feel welcome though.”

“Of course. We all do.”

The front doorbell rang, and he heard Mrs. Reynolds’ footsteps. Should he have been the one to open the door instead of the housekeeper? Too late, it didn’t matter now. His fiancée was here, in his home for the first time.

And so was her mother, he realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Yes, he had invited Elizabeth’s parents, but a part of him secretly hoped they might stay home.

Mrs. Bennet’s shrill tones reverberated in his back teeth, like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Resigned, he went to face them in the foyer.

“Well, good morning, Mr. Darcy! How are you today?”

“Fine, thank you, Mrs. Bennet.” He spared Elizabeth a glance. She handed their coats to Mrs. Reynolds with a smile and a thank you.

“Dr. Bennet is parking the car.”

He raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the door.

“Elizabeth’s father, I mean.” She reached over and laid a hand on his arm. “I know he doesn’t work as a professor now, but I got so used to calling him Dr. Bennet when we entertained the faculty at Northwestern. It’s a hard habit to break.”

“Of course.” He answered Dr. Bennet’s knock. “Good morning, sir.”

“Mr. Darcy. Good to see you.” He glanced around. “Well, Fanny, you’ve seen the place now. Are you satisfied Lizzy won’t freeze or starve here? Can we go back home?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! I never said anything of the sort!”

Elizabeth’s cheeks colored, and she met Darcy’s gaze with an apologetic expression.

“Would you all like to come in the parlor? Georgiana and Mrs. Reynolds have some refreshments prepared.”

“How wonderful! Yes, of course.” Mrs. Bennet followed the direction Darcy indicated, her head moving to and fro, taking in the furnishings.

It reminded him of Caroline Bingley.

Dr. Bennet followed his wife, and finally, the person Darcy most wanted to see was right in front of him.

“How are you this morning, Elizabeth?”

“I’m well, thank you. It was kind of you to invite us.”

“I wanted to give you a chance to see your new home before the wedding.” He glanced toward the parlor door. “And I thought it might reassure your parents.”

Little feet rumbled overhead like faraway thunder.

“Elizabeth!” Maggie came down the stairs, one foot and then the other on each step. Ruth started to follow, but Darcy sprang forward and up the stairs to carry her.

“Maggie,” he said in a stern voice, as he carried Ruth down to the first floor. “You must wait and help your sister down the stairs, so she won’t fall.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just so excited!”

“I know you are. Try to remember, though, she will follow you and try to do everything you do.” He stepped down. “Now, say hello to Miss Bennet.”

Maggie schooled her expression and tilted her head in an imperious nod. She held out her hand. “Welcome to our home.”

Elizabeth grasped the little fingers. “Thank you, Miss Darcy.”

Maggie tugged on her hand, leading her toward the parlor. “Mama bought snacks from the bakery! They’re so-o-o yummy. We only get them for Christmas, but Mama says this is a ‘speshah-cazhun’ because you’re going to be my aunt soon. I’m so excited!”

Amused, Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at Darcy as she was led away. She shrugged one shoulder, and he chuckled, following them with Ruth in his arms.

“See?” Maggie was standing in front of the tray, pointing. “What’s your favorite color? I like the pink ones, but Mama likes the purple, but she calls it ‘lavender’ and Unca doesn’t have a favorite. He says they all taste the same.”

“They’re all pretty, but I’m partial to yellow myself.”

“Maggie”—Georgiana reminded her as the little girl’s hand moved toward a petit four with a yellow flower piped on top—“let Elizabeth choose her own cake.”

Maggie snatched her hand back. “Oh, I forgot.”

“Maybe you can hand me a napkin?” Elizabeth said.

The girls were set up with cakes at one end of the room, an end table between them, but grew bored quickly after finishing the last crumbs on their plates.

“Elizabeth,” Maggie said, standing in front of the couch.

“Come with me upstairs. You can see my room, and I’ll show you the nursery.

That’s where the toys and books are. I have a new book called The Little Engine That Could.

Ruth likes that one too. You can read it to us. ” She licked icing off her thumb.

“I would love to see your room and read your new book, but today”—she leaned close and lowered her voice—“I have to sit and talk to grown-ups. Not as much fun, I know.”

Maggie’s voice lowered too. “It’s all right. Sometimes we hafta do things we don’t like to do.”

Darcy grinned at Maggie, amused at her repeating what Georgiana told her when it was time to go to bed or brush her teeth.

Mrs. Reynolds stood up and held out her hand. “I’ll take them upstairs to play. Come on, Miss Maggie.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said. He watched as the girls left the room, hand-in-hand with Mrs. Reynolds, and turned back to Elizabeth. “And thank you for your patience with Maggie.”

“Oh, Lizzy is wonderful with children. Always has been. She’ll make a wonderful mother.”

“Mama!” Elizabeth muttered, looking embarrassed. Even Dr. Bennet looked uncomfortable.

“Wives become mothers, Lizzy.” Mrs. Bennet smoothed her skirt, completely nonplussed.

“Thank goodness for mothers,” Georgiana chimed in. “‘The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.’ Would you like some more coffee, Mrs. Bennet?”

“Why yes, I believe I would. Thank you.”

After coffee and almost another half-hour of conversation that was by turns stilted and awkward, Mrs. Bennet suggested, in an uncharacteristic move, that she and her husband return home.

“There’s always more to do on a farm, as I’m sure you know. You can drive Lizzy home, can’t you, Mr. Darcy? I’m sure she will want to see the rest of the house.”

“Mama, I—"

“I’d be happy to.”

Dr. Bennet narrowed his eyes at his future son-in-law. “Home by supper?”

Darcy and Elizabeth answered in unison: “Yes, sir.”

As they collected coats and said their goodbyes, Mrs. Bennet turned to Darcy and shook his hand, covering it with her own. “Your home is lovely, Mr. Darcy.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“We’re just so happy for you and Lizzy.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Right before he shut the door behind them, he heard her say to her husband, “Now, they can have a little time alone.”

Both embarrassed and amused, he turned to the parlor where Elizabeth and Georgiana had their heads together, looking through an album of photographs.

For once, I agree with Mrs. Bennet.

Elizabeth glanced up at him, smiling, and his heart lurched a little in his chest.

“What a handsome little fellow you were, sir,” she said, indicating the album.

“Why do they dress boys in those baby gowns for portraits? It’s unseemly.”

She laughed. “All you’d need to add is a hair bow, and this could be a picture of Maggie.”

Georgiana closed the book. “William, why don’t you show Elizabeth around? I need to check on the girls, maybe put them down for a nap, although I don’t know how Maggie will ever settle down.”

He watched Elizabeth put her cup on the tray, looking as if she spent every Saturday in such a manner. She would fit in here, belong here, he decided. No matter what her background or how gauche the behavior of her mother.

“Of course.” He held out his arm. “Should we start upstairs and work our way down?”

At the top of the steps, Georgiana went one way to the nursery, and Darcy steered Elizabeth to the other. Guest bedrooms, bath, sitting room, and then he stopped outside a door at the end of the hall.

“And this is our room.” He opened the door, and Elizabeth peered inside. A four-poster bed in dark mahogany wood was the focal point, with matching dresser and chest of drawers, and a sitting area at one end, furnished with a rocker and a chaise lounge under the bay window.

“I’ve already been making room in the closet and the dresser for your things. Would you like to see?”

“I don’t have many things since we moved here.” She looked away, demure and modest, he supposed. Which he approved of. Probably.

She walked on, unusually reserved. When they reached his office on the first floor, he could remain silent no longer.

“Are you well?”

“Me? Oh yes, I’m fine.”

“You’ve been quiet this afternoon.”

“I’m a little overwhelmed, I think. There’s so much to see here.”

“It pleases me to see you here. I hope you are also pleased.”

“I am. Of course.”

“Dare I hope you approve of Pemberley?”

A nervous chuckle escaped her. “I do. But then I think most people would.”

“Your approval is hard won, perhaps, and therefore, more worth earning.”

“You have a beautiful home,” she said politely.

“Is there anything I can do before you arrive to make you feel more at ease? A favorite color for the bedspread, perhaps? A certain dinner meal?”

“Oh no, everything is just lovely,” she said in an echo of her mother. “Please don’t go to any extra trouble. I’m sure Mrs. Reynolds and Georgiana have the house arranged just as they like it, and that is fine with me.”

She breezed by him to gaze out the window into the flower garden. Her skirt brushed his hand as she passed, and his fingers twitched to let the fabric slide over them.

He joined her at the window. “Over there is the woodshop. And just beyond that rise is the barn—you can see the rooftop there.” He pointed. “Beside it is the chicken house. The hired hands bunk in a building beyond that, and the fields are just a bit farther on.”

“Do you have a garden? Besides the flowers, I mean.”

“The kitchen garden? It’s on the other side of the house. I can show you—”

“That’s all right. I just wondered where it was.”

“Not much to see this time of year.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“You look pensive, Elizabeth. I can’t help but wonder if something is wrong.”

“Not at all.” She turned to face him and met his gaze. After a few seconds, she seemed to have made a decision and took a deep breath. “I want you to know—I do understand I’m joining a household, not starting one.”

“Yes, I guess that’s true. I hadn’t thought much about it.”

“It’s different than if we were setting up house from the beginning.”

He faltered. “Ah. Well, I... That isn’t a problem, is it?"

She smiled and laid her hand on his arm in that reassuring gesture he was beginning to yearn for. “No, Mr. Darcy. It’s not a problem. At all. I’m quite accustomed to a lively household, and I’m fond of Georgiana and the girls. It’s just that...”

“Yes?”

“You seem very keen on showing me how everything is in its place, and the farm runs like a well-oiled machine. I only wanted to reassure you that I won’t disturb that machine. Or you, for that matter.”

Confused, he frowned.

“I know my place.” She looked away.

“Your place is mistress of the house. Or will be, in a few days. My family will adjust.”

“I’m sure we all will. In time. I’m not in any hurry.”

He didn’t know what to say. He had planned to show her the kitchen next, but perhaps that wasn’t a good idea. At a loss, he stepped back. “Is there something else you would like to see? Um, the kitchen, maybe?”

“If you like. Although, I should warn you, I’m not much of a cook. Mama never let me near the stove when she was making meals.”

“Mrs. Reynolds does most of the cooking here. Although Georgiana dabbles on occasion.”

“Yes, of course.”

A sudden thought occurred to him. “Would you like to see the library?”

“You have a library?”

“Yes. Not to boast, but it’s the work of three generations of Darcys, and I’ve tried to do my part to add to it. I know you like books.”

“I do like them, but I wonder how you knew that.”

“Maggie’s story hour, remember?”

“Oh yes.”

“And you said you were in school to be a teacher. Last fall.”

Encouraged by the sparkle in her eyes, he took her hand and led her in the opposite direction from the kitchen. He opened the glass-paneled door on the west side of the house.

“Oh!” She stepped inside and inhaled deeply. “I do love the smell of books.”

“Go ahead. Take a look around.”

She wandered the perimeter of the room, running a finger along the spines, her lips moving in silence as she read the titles. After she finished the circuit, she glanced up at him with an impish smile. “If ever you can’t locate me, sir, you know where to look.”

He crossed to her, lifted his hand to caress one cheek, and bent down to kiss the other.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“This is the happiest I’ve seen you all afternoon.”

She looked flustered, all flushed and excited. That look made him impulsive. It made him burn.

His lips found hers. He didn’t dare deepen the kiss—not here, not now—but he couldn’t resist tugging her a little closer, feeling each supple curve under a maddening veil of clothing.

“Unca! Elizabeth!” Maggie ran through the hallway and into the open door. “There you are. Stop hugging and come see what Ruth has done to the snack tray! She’s going to be in troubles when Mama finds out.”

He stepped away once more, feeling sheepish but couldn’t find it in him to regret the awkwardness of being caught in a stolen moment of affection.