Page 68

Fitzwilliam Darcy was not having a good day, which was odd because he had every expectation that the next would bring one of the very best of his life.

Tomorrow, Elizabeth was to arrive. The very thought of having her at Pemberley made his chest tighten with hope.

Today, however, was not turning out as he had wished.

Long before dawn, he had been woken with news of a fire at one of his tenant’s cottages.

He had ridden out immediately and then spent hours with the men, hurling buckets of water and sand to put out the flames and keep them from spreading.

The family had escaped with their lives but Mr. Greene had been badly burned attempting to save some of their possessions. Darcy had immediately sent for the apothecary in Kympton; that man had taken one look at the distraught farmer’s shoulder and hustled him off to clean and bandage his wounds.

The structure itself was a complete loss. Pemberley’s master spent some time reassuring the family that it would be rebuilt promptly and making arrangements for them to stay in an empty pensioner’s cottage in the meantime.

When Darcy finally returned to Pemberley House, it was nearly mid-afternoon.

He had dunked his head in a water trough before leaving the scene of the fire but was still grimy from the smoke.

Exhausted, he slid down out of the saddle and handed the reins to the stable boy who met him.

Patting the equally exhausted horse on the neck, Will said quietly, “Give him a double measure of oats, Jack, for he surely earned it today.”

After the boy led his horse away, Darcy stood for a moment by the stable, staring out across Pemberley’s lake at two ducks swimming contentedly, sun glinting off the ripples of their wake.

It seemed surreal that such serenity could exist not five miles from where he had so recently witnessed such destruction and misery .

After a few minutes of contemplation, Darcy’s attention was brought back to his present situation by the sound of voices.

Not wishing to be caught in such a grubby state by tourists visiting Pemberley, he turned and was about to head toward the kitchen door when a wholly unexpected voice froze him in place.

“Mr. Darcy?”

Rounding the corner of the stables was, horror of horrors, the very lady whom he most wished to impress; Miss Elizabeth Bennet, herself, accompanied by the two Gardiner boys.

“Mr. Darcy, are you well?”

Her worried voice reminded Fitzwilliam of his manners.

“Miss Bennet,” he said gruffly and bowed correctly, although such formality seemed a farce given his current state.

For an instant, he considered trying to put his coat back on, but as it had been dunked in a dirty pail of water after catching fire itself, he decided absently that it probably wouldn’t do much to improve his appearance.

Vaguely, he heard Elizabeth send the boys inside to tell Mrs. Reynolds that the Master had returned and would need a bath and food immediately. He was still standing in exactly the same place when she turned back to him and took his hands to examine them.

“Are you hurt? Mrs. Reynolds said that there was a fire and you had gone to help.”

Though exhausted, the sound of Elizabeth’s concern sang in his ears. He smiled and the resulting expression was almost goofy. “I am well, just tired.” He squeezed her hands in his. “When did you arrive? This is not quite the welcome I had planned for you, I’m afraid.”

Elizabeth studied him for a moment, dark eyes searching.

Seemingly reassured, she nodded and then tugged his arm to begin walking toward the house.

“We arrived just after noon; the roads were good and we made excellent time. We considered stopping for an extra night in Nottingham but Georgiana assured us that it wouldn’t be a problem if we arrived a bit early.

” She did not add that Miss Darcy’s eagerness to return to her ancestral home had been equaled by her obvious desire to see Elizabeth reunited with her brother. “Was anyone hurt?”

It took Darcy a moment to realize that she was asking about the fire.

He summarized the situation and she nodded, asking a few questions about the family’s circumstances that he found himself oddly pleased to answer.

By the time they reached the front steps, he was feeling less overwhelmed and more certain than ever that if the woman beside him should ever agree to become Mrs. Darcy, he would be the luckiest man in the world.

Elizabeth delivered Mr. Darcy to the housekeeper who bustled him off to his rooms before he even had a chance to greet the Gardiners. “They are perfectly well, sir. Miss Bennet has the right of it—you need to let Hawkins clean you up and see to that cut.”

Will touched his forehead and found his fingers smeared with blood from a scrape of which he’d been unaware. They reached the door to his rooms and he stopped for a moment, hand on the doorknob.

“I assume you will wish to come down and take tea with your guests?” Mrs. Reynolds eyed the young master with a sharp eye.

She’d known him since he was four years old and the moment she’d seen him looking at Miss Bennet she had known who would be Pemberley’s next mistress.

From what she had seen thus far, the young lady was polite, kind, and intelligent, all of which made for a promising beginning.

Her unaffected actions in looking after Mr. Darcy just now, however, had done the most to win the old housekeeper’s heart.

After a pause, Fitzwilliam looked up at her and smiled, tired but happy. “Yes, but could you send up a plate of sandwiches? I haven’t had anything but an apple for breakfast and it might be embarrassing if I left nothing for our guests to eat at tea.”

The housekeeper assured him that she would arrange it immediately and departed, her serious demeanor breaking into a smile the moment his back was turned.

When Darcy descended the stairs nearly an hour later, there was no hint of his travails except for a bit of sticking plaster on his forehead and a tiredness around the eyes.

His eyebrows rose at the site of Mrs. Reynolds scolding two young maids in the hall.

When she caught sight of him, the girls were sent on their way with a final remonstrance.

Mrs. Reynolds turned to him, hands still on her hips, but Fitzwilliam could now tell that her lips were tight to keep from laughing rather than from irritation.

“Problem, Mrs. Reynolds?”

She couldn’t quite stop a laugh. “Fighting over who is to look after the youngest Gardiner lass. One would think that none of the staff has ever seen a child, the way they are all a flutter! Hauling out all the old trunks of toys and cleaning the schoolroom…” She paused, intrigued by the soft look on the Master’s face.

“It has been a long time since there were children at Pemberley,” he said quietly.

“Yes, sir,” she replied in a similar tone, understanding that he was thinking of the times before his mother had died, when the Darcys had often entertained other families and Pemberley had been full of the sound of laughter and young voices.

Both of the Darcy children had become quiet and serious beyond their years after the death of their parents.

Fitzwilliam sighed before looking up at the woman who had been much like a surrogate mother. “Well, let us hope that this is a sign of times to come. ”

Master and housekeeper smiled at each other in perfect understanding. “Yes, sir. I shall make certain that everything possible is done to make our guests comfortable.”

“I know you will; I have every faith that they shall love Pemberley.” He sighed slightly and, looking at the floor, muttered under his breath, “If only I had as much faith in myself.”

Mrs. Reynolds studied the young man with understanding eyes for a moment before squaring her shoulders. “Miss Georgiana asked me to send the tea tray in to the rose sitting room when you were ready to join them. Shall I do so now, sir?”

Knowing just what she was about and appreciating the nudge, Darcy smiled. “Yes, and thank you, Mrs. Reynolds.”

“Of course, dear.” The housekeeper bustled off, unaware of the endearment that had slipped out.

Darcy watched her for a moment before squaring his own shoulders, reminding himself of a litany of things that he must do and must not do, and then heading in the direction of his guests.

When Mr. Darcy entered the sitting room, his eyes were immediately drawn to the sight of Elizabeth standing at a window looking out across the gardens, her light yellow gown looking like an extension of a sunbeam.

There was no telling how long he might have stood in the doorway staring had not Georgiana jumped up from her seat to greet him.

Looking down at his sister, Will managed to gather his wits and kiss her on the forehead.

“Hello, Georgiana.” He turned to the other occupants of the room and bowed slightly.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Miss Bennet. Welcome to Pemberley. As I said to Miss Bennet earlier, I apologize for not being here to greet you properly when you arrived.”

Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle easily assured him that he had nothing to apologize for; their every comfort had been seen to by Miss Darcy and Mrs. Reynolds. Georgiana looked pleased at the praise of her hostessing and Fitzwilliam smiled at her proudly.

After discussing their travel for several minutes, Georgie and the Gardiners were distracted when two maids arrived with trays of tea and cakes.

As they were setting things out, Darcy moved to stand by Elizabeth who had remained quiet since exchanging courtesies.

Fitzwilliam bowed slightly over her hand.

“Miss Bennet.”

“Mr. Darcy.”

“And how do you like Pemberley?” he asked softly after a pause.