Page 1 of Drawn to Love

The carriage rode down the rutted roads, the horses travelling at a fast pace. It was almost the end of their long journey from Longbourn to Derbyshire, and it was a journey which Elizabeth enjoyed — but not without a heavy heart.

Since April, Elizabeth had not had a single peaceful day or restful night.

Mr. Darcy’s shocking and dreadful marriage proposal had been the biggest surprise she had experienced in her entire life.

She had never suspected any partiality on his side; quite the opposite, she had been certain of his disdain for her and her family, just as she had been sure that he was responsible for Jane’s misery and Mr. Bingley’s departure.

‘You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,’ Mr. Darcy had told her in a moment of heated confession, and those words had not ceased to torment her ever since.

She had never imagined that the proud, arrogant, spiteful Mr. Darcy would ever express his ardent love and admiration to anyone, and that she was the last woman in the world to whom such a declaration could be addressed.

In fact, she had been certain Mr. Darcy did not know the meaning of such words, nor that he could feel such sentiments for any lady.

He had always seemed so ready to find fault in people.

He was her severest critic; how was it possible that he had been in love with her all those months — so much in love that he had proposed to her against his will and better judgment — as he had admitted?

She did not regret rejecting him; at that time, her feelings for him had not permitted another answer, and her resentment for his interference which led to the separation of Jane from Mr. Bingley only added to her dislike.

But she deeply regretted the manner of her rejection, the offences she threw at him, and — most devastating and deeply shameful — that she had trusted Mr. Wickham so utterly and completely and allowed herself to be deceived by that man’s handsome appearance and horrible character.

The Gardiners had invited her to join them on a journey to the Lakes, and she had gladly accepted.

Her uncle and aunt were her favourite people, who never failed to bring her comfort, and, even though she had not revealed the secret of Mr. Darcy’s proposal to them, she still felt better in their company.

“My dear Lizzy, I hope you are not disappointed that we cannot see the Lakes this time,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “I am sorry that your uncle’s business forced us to shorten our trip.”

“Dear aunt, I could never be disappointed in your company,” Elizabeth replied. “I hope you know that. I have already enjoyed our journey very much.”

“And I hope you will find further pleasure in it, now that we are in Derbyshire.”

The mere mention of that county troubled her, for she associated it with Mr. Darcy. She had been nervous about this destination since she had heard of it, but Mrs. Gardiner insisted upon it, as she had grown up in Lambton, only five miles from Pemberley.

“I know you do not have pleasant memories of Mr. Darcy, considering his arrogant and uncivil behaviour towards you, but I insist on viewing Pemberley, even if only from afar. It is the most beautiful park I have ever seen, and the house itself is stunning and perfectly situated. You will surely enjoy it despite its proud owner. You may associate it instead with your favourite, Mr. Wickham,” Mrs. Gardiner teased her.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Wickham ceased to be my favourite a while ago,” she admitted. “During my stay in Kent, I learnt some disturbing details which proved that we had been ignorant of his true character.”

“Oh dear, how strange!” Mrs. Gardiner replied. “Are you sure? He has the appearance of such a good, amiable man.”

“He might have the appearance of it, but nothing else,” Elizabeth said. “His character and his honour are both questionable, and his amiability means nothing by comparison.”

“That is a harsh statement, my dear. Then, could the story of his past misfortunes, brought about by Mr. Darcy — which your mother and Lydia told me about ten times — be untrue?”

“I suspect so. It might be that the late Mr. Darcy recommended Mr. Wickham be given a living, but perhaps the present Mr. Darcy discovered things that induced him to not indulge that desire.”

“And may I ask how such suspicions arose? You seemed quite favourable towards Mr. Wickham when we met at Christmas.”

“From a reliable source, I assure you. My past favour towards Mr. Wickham was nothing else but proof of silliness on my part. And this is precisely why I am reluctant to see Mr. Darcy again. I am not so much upset by his past arrogance as I am embarrassed by my silly misjudgement.”

“Did you and Mr. Darcy have further misunderstandings when you met in Kent?”

“We did,” Elizabeth admitted after a brief hesitation. “And, much to my mortification, I personally accused Mr. Darcy of being cruel and unfair to poor Mr. Wickham. Poor Mr. Wickham, indeed!”

“Dear Lizzy, you speak so passionately about this matter, and you are too harsh on yourself. If you were deceived by Mr. Wickham, so were we all. How could you know his words were untrue? In fact, if we are to meet Mr. Darcy again, it will be a good opportunity for you to explain your error and apologise for it.”

“I cannot hope for an amicable conversation with Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said. “We have never been friends, and now it is less likely than at any other time. Meeting him would be the most embarrassing moment — for both of us. A moment that I heartily wish to avoid.”

“You have no reason to fear,” Mrs. Gardiner replied.

“Even if Mr. Darcy is at home, Pemberley Park is so large that we are unlikely to meet anyone. There are plenty of visitors all the time — if someone sees us, they will not know who we are. We can drive through the park, admire the house from a distance, and continue our journey to Lambton.”

“It sounds like a perfect arrangement,” Mr. Gardiner responded joyfully. “I am curious to see a place you have praised so much, my dear.”

“You will see that the praise is all deserved,” Mrs. Gardiner declared.

Elizabeth chose to remain silent; she could not further contradict her aunt without raising suspicions, so she just gazed through the window, while the carriage continued to roll onwards.

Besides, she admitted to herself that she was curious too. She had heard so much about Pemberley that it would be a great waste to be close to it and refuse to see it. At least from afar, as she would not — by any means — agree to go near the house.

Mrs. Gardiner gave directions to the coachman, and the journey continued, as well as the conversation, to which Elizabeth paid less and less attention.

She was occupied with the view, wondering when she would catch the first glimpse of Pemberley Park and struggling with the turmoil of the thought that she might see Mr. Darcy.

To have the audacity to come to his home, to invade his privacy, was outrageous even to her.

His response at seeing her after the terrible offences she had thrown at him, she could only imagine and fear.

Her concern was not so much for herself — she deserved his resentment — but for her uncle and aunt.

It was more than possible that if Mr. Darcy knew of their presence, he would ask for all of them to be thrown from his property quite unceremoniously, and she would have to explain the reason to her relatives.

Her courage betrayed her, and she was about to beg her aunt to alter their plans again when Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed with a sigh, “Look, Lizzy! We are just entering Pemberley Park! And look there, far away in the valley. There is Pemberley House.”

Elizabeth’s heart raced, and she held her breath while her eyes searched for the object of Mrs. Gardiner’s awe. When she finally noticed it, her sigh matched her aunt’s.

“Take the path towards the lake, and from there follow the road to Lambton,” Mrs. Gardiner instructed the coachman, then added, “Wait till we get closer, Lizzy.”

The carriage rode steadily through the large park, and a great variety of ground was revealed to their eyes.

Her uncle and aunt spoke animatedly, but Elizabeth’s mind was too full for conversation and too busy to admire every remarkable spot.

They gradually ascended for half a mile until they reached the highest point, where the wood ceased, and their eyes were instantly caught by the stunning image of the house situated on the opposite side of a valley, still a significant distance away.

It was an impressive building, standing well on rising ground, having a stunning lake in front of it and backed by a ridge of high, woody hills.

The building looked handsome, and the grounds were flawless, without any artificial appearance.

Elizabeth was delighted, thinking she had never seen a place so beautifully situated.

At the same time, a cold wave of sadness and sorrow enveloped her, while she began to realise what it meant to be the mistress of Pemberley.

The notion that Mr. Darcy had offered her all that beauty and a position probably desired by many other women seemed difficult to believe, and the recollection of her rejection became even more tormenting.

“It is no wonder that Mr. Darcy is such a proud man,” Mr. Gardiner uttered. “I would be too if I owned such an estate. He must be very severe and fastidious in judging women since he must select the worthiest one to be the mistress of all this.”

While her uncle spoke mostly in jest, it mirrored Elizabeth’s thoughts well, and she felt a sharp pain in her chest.

“Being the mistress of Pemberley is also a great responsibility,” Mrs. Gardiner added. “Lady Anne Darcy was admired by everybody. Her memory and legacy must be precious to her son. I wonder when and who will take her place.”

Elizabeth smiled despite her turmoil. For a moment, she imagined how it would have been if she were already Mrs. Darcy and could welcome her uncle and aunt to Pemberley.

Her brief reflection, however, vanished when her reason told her that Mr. Darcy would likely not appreciate visits from her relatives from Cheapside.

Even if she had not despised him when he proposed, even if her feelings had been favourable towards him, she could not have agreed to enter into a marriage which would separate her from her family.

The carriage was following the road through the park, getting closer to the house, and now allowed a full view of its splendour.

“Dear aunt, we are not going any closer to the house, I hope!” Elizabeth said.

“No, my dear. At least not today. We shall go to Lambton and enquire whether the family is at home. If they are not, I shall try to persuade you to return for a proper visit.”

“If the family is not at home, I might be easily convinced.” Elizabeth smiled.

Several minutes later, they spotted a few men at work. They glanced at the carriage only briefly, then returned to their duties.

“Look, Lizzy, that is the greenhouse! And look at the gardens. Is it not charming?”

“It is wonderful,” she admitted in a small voice. “Wonderful,” she repeated, her heart pounding.

“Oh, it looks even lovelier than I remember,” Mrs. Gardiner continued. “I truly hope Mr. Darcy is not as arrogant and unpleasant as you said, Lizzy. I would be very sorry for the legacy of his parents. And for this beautiful place that he owns.”

“I believe once you come to know him better, Mr. Darcy might have other qualities that overshadow his arrogance,” Elizabeth answered, trying to sound light. “Owning Pemberley is certainly one of them.”

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the sound of loud barking, and from near the lake, three dogs — seemingly rather large ones — ran through the trees towards them.