Page 2 of Drawn to Love

“Well, someone is either welcoming us or trying to send us away,” Mr. Gardiner jested.

“Intruders are rarely welcomed,” Elizabeth replied.

“Do not worry, there have always been dogs at Pemberley, but they are never aggressive. I remember even when I was a child,” Mrs. Gardiner added.

“I do not worry. I have never been afraid of any dog,” Elizabeth said.

The barking increased as they approached, and the horses neighed and threw up their heads with fear.

The coachman tried to calm them, pulling the reins and calling to them, but one of the horses reared.

The other one remained steady, but the movement caused a commotion, and the carriage left the road, rolling onto a grassy bank and leaning precariously to the side.

Somebody called the dogs, and they immediately obeyed, walking away.

The horses, however, remained restless, shaking the carriage. With horror, Elizabeth saw her aunt trying to find support against the door, which opened, and the lady fell to the ground with a cry.

“Roll away from the carriage!” Mr. Gardiner cried desperately, and Mrs. Gardiner did so just in time; then the wheel broke, and one side of the carriage dropped heavily, throwing Elizabeth to the side.

Jumping out nimbly, Mr. Gardiner hurried to attend to his wife, but Elizabeth was left in the still shaking carriage.

“Do not worry, I am well,” Elizabeth heard Mrs. Gardiner say. “I have only hurt my leg a little.”

“A little? There is a nasty bruise and lots of blood!” Mr. Gardiner replied.

“Oh come, my dear. Not lots of blood! I have had worse wounds as a child, and I am sure you and Lizzy did too,” the lady jested. “Help me stand up — it is nothing.”

“I am so sorry…I do not know what happened! I shall go and fetch help,” Elizabeth heard the desperate voice of the coachman declare.

“Lambton is less than five miles away,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Take a horse and ride there. Find my cousins and tell them what happened. They will come and convey us to the inn in no time. There is no reason for panic.”

Gripping tightly to the doorframe and taking tentative steps, Elizabeth finally climbed down from the carriage.

“Lizzy, are you well?” Mr. Gardiner enquired.

“Perfectly so,” she answered, hiding her trembling hands behind her back. “Tell me, how may I help? What should I do?”

“Nothing, my dear. Just sit here on the grass and let us admire Pemberley while we wait for help,” Mrs. Gardiner replied, still in a better mood than the others.

The coachman worked to unharness one of the horses, and Mr. Gardiner tried to stop the bleeding on his wife’s leg. Elizabeth watched in silence, with a strange grip in her chest.

The barking suddenly resumed, as well as the horses’ neighing.

Through the trees, a man appeared, surrounded by the three dogs who had caused the earlier commotion. The man stepped forwards hastily, but then his pace slowed until he stopped. And so did Elizabeth’s heart.

Only a few steps away stood Mr. Darcy, wearing only trousers and a shirt, open at the neck, his hair in disorder, staring at her with his mouth and eyes widened in obvious disbelief.

The sound of something heavy falling to the ground startled her, and she noticed an easel, which he must have been carrying but had dropped in surprise.

Next to the easel, several pieces of paper were spread across the grass.

They were paintings — portraits of a woman whose identity made the grip in her chest tighten.

Her image was there, at Mr. Darcy’s feet, while the real her remained still, breathless, gazing at him.

He immediately knelt and gathered the sheets, hiding them behind the easel, then finally stood up, whispering in a low and incredulous voice, “Miss Bennet?”

“Mr. Darcy…”

“What…? Why…? What happened? What are you doing here?”

“I-I beg your forgiveness, sir. I am visiting Derbyshire with my uncle and aunt. We were on our way to Lambton — my aunt’s relatives live there… We were just…our carriage broke…”

She watched Mr. Darcy frown. He was looking at her doubtfully, probably questioning the truth of her words. Then his gaze moved over her shoulder.

“I am afraid my dogs frightened you. They are usually friendly, only protective when they meet new people. I am very sorry…I shall fetch help immediately. And a doctor…”

“Oh no, sir, please do not trouble yourself,” Elizabeth heard her aunt’s voice declare.

“We thank you for your kindness, but certainly there is no need for a doctor. My cousins own a shop and the inn in Lambton — where we are bound. Our servant will go and fetch him. We apologise for bothering you.”

“It is no bother, I assure you,” Mr. Darcy said with obvious agitation. “Miss Bennet, would you do me the honour of introducing me to your relatives?”

The request took Elizabeth by surprise, and she needed a moment to regain her composure. She performed the introductions hesitantly, noticing that all three of her companions looked equally uneasy.

Mr. Darcy seemed well acquainted with Mrs. Gardiner’s relatives in the area, and some pleasantries were exchanged between them.

“Mrs. Gardiner, I would kindly suggest that you allow my men to look at the carriage while your servant fetches your cousins. And I must insist you wait inside the house. I shall fetch a phaeton to convey you there.”

“Sir, you are exceedingly generous, but we do not want to intrude,” Mrs. Gardiner replied, her amazement apparent.

Elizabeth was so shocked by his unexpected kindness that she could barely speak.

“Indeed, Mr. Darcy, we could not possibly disturb you even more. We did not know you were at home… We planned only to ride through the park and continue our journey without troubling anyone…”

She knew she was mumbling and could not hold his gaze for more than a moment. He was there, only steps away, dressed — or better said, undressed — as she had never seen him before, holding the easel.

She had expected he would not want to ever see her again — even less speak to her — and feared he might be rude to her uncle and aunt. And yet, he was friendly, generous, and caring — proving that she had misjudged him once again. His kindness and impeccable manners made her ashamed of herself.

“It would be my pleasure if you came into the house. Unless, of course, it would be unpleasant to you,” he added, and Elizabeth could feel his stare on her face. Finally, her eyes dared to meet his.

“Of course not. Quite the opposite,” she whispered.

“We are honoured by your invitation, sir,” Mr. Gardiner said. “We hesitated to accept it in consideration of your comfort, Mr. Darcy.”

“Good. Then it is settled. I shall leave you now. I hope your wait will be short.”

With that, he hurried towards the house with the easel under his arm and the three dogs following him.

Elizabeth’s knees betrayed her, and she leant against the broken carriage, trying to breathe.

“Dear Lord, I cannot believe that was Mr. Darcy!” Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed. “So friendly and kind and considerate! Who could imagine?”

“I certainly could not,” Mr. Gardiner replied.

“When I guessed his identity, I feared he would demand we leave his property, based on what Lizzy told us. And there he was — acting the opposite of what we expected. Was he serious when he asked us to go inside the house? Will he truly send men to repair the carriage?”

“Should I go to Lambton, sir?” the coachman asked.

“Yes, of course,” Mr. Gardiner responded. “I am not sure whether you will find us at this very spot or at Pemberley House. I am not sure how to take Mr. Darcy’s words.”

“Sir, look, there are a few men coming,” the coachman pointed out while he freed a horse from the carriage.

Indeed, two men were approaching hastily, while Mr. Darcy’s silhouette could be seen entering through the gates and disappearing behind them.

“I believe we should take Mr. Darcy’s words in earnest and with gratitude,” Mrs. Gardiner uttered. “I cannot imagine the reason for such generosity, but he seemed willing to help us. Lizzy, what do you say? Can you explain his behaviour?”

She said nothing. As if in a dream, she heard her uncle and aunt talking about Mr. Darcy and wondering about his attentions.

Speechless, she only watched him until her eyes lost sight of him.

No, she could not explain what she had just witnessed.

She did not even dare assume the reason for his friendliness.

He looked different from how she remembered him, both in manners and in appearance.

He seemed to have lost weight, his face was less severe and paler, his hair longer, and a shadow of a beard covered his chin.

Although he was quite improperly attired for visitors, he looked more handsome than in her recollections; his voice was softer, his gaze darker but gentler.

Had he changed in essentials too? Was he the same man who had declared he loved her ardently?

The same man she had rejected and offended?

Was he angry at seeing her? He was surprised, that could not be doubted.

But what other feelings had her impromptu presence aroused in him?

More than the extraordinary change in his manners, her mind and her heart were full of questions and speculations about something more important, more distressing, more stunning: the portraits.

Her portraits. He had painted her? And quite faithfully, indeed.

Was it possible that he was still thinking of her?

The paintings could suggest that; but of what kind were his thoughts?

What feelings guided his fingers on the brush?

Her reflections could not last long, as the two men arrived and engaged in conversation with Mr. Gardiner, debating how to fix the wheel.

A little while later, a phaeton with two white horses stopped in front of them.

A coachman, together with Mr. Gardiner and the other two men, helped Mrs. Gardiner up, followed by her husband and Elizabeth.

“We’ll bring the luggage, sir,” one of the men said as the phaeton began to move. Elizabeth watched it all in a stunned silence, lost between dreams and reality.

Less than an hour ago she had dreaded seeing Mr. Darcy, fearing a violent — yet justified — response on his part. Now she was on her way to his home, with her uncle and aunt, in his carriage, at his special request. Surely that could not be real.

“Are we really going to Pemberley?” Mrs. Gardiner whispered.

“Apparently we are,” Mr. Gardiner replied. “I am not sure what is happening, but I shall not complain, considering it is to your benefit. It would not do to wait in this heat, sitting on the grass, until your cousins arrive.”

“Lizzy dear, you are awfully quiet. Are you upset? I could tell you were not happy to see Mr. Darcy.”

“I am not upset, Aunt. And I was happy, truly. I am just as amazed as you are by his kindness. As I said, we did not part on friendly terms, and I certainly did not expect such attentions.”

“Well, Mr. Darcy certainly did not act like you were not on friendly terms,” Mr. Gardiner replied. “If he is so kind, he cannot have any other reason but you, since he does not know us.”

“Or he might just be a kind and considerate landlord, who is worried that some people suffered an accident on his property,” Elizabeth said.

“True,” Mr. Gardiner admitted. “Generosity is expected of a gentleman of his class. You said his parents were admired and loved in Derbyshire, so he must wish to be worthy of their legacy.”

“That would be a reasonable explanation,” Mrs. Gardiner agreed.

“Regardless of his motives, we have nothing else to do but thank him. To be honest, I am curious and anxious to see more of Pemberley House. I glimpsed inside it only once, as a child, but it was from a servants’ door, and it lasted too briefly to remember much. ”

From the conversation, Elizabeth realised that neither her uncle nor aunt had noticed the paintings.

They had probably been so occupied with the accident and so stunned by Mr. Darcy’s appearance that they had observed nothing else; and that was a true relief for her.

If they had, they would have surely recognised her image, and their enquiries would be difficult to answer.

With every moment that took her closer to the house, Elizabeth’s heart pounded harder, and breathing became more difficult. She felt chills along her spine when she noticed Mr. Darcy waiting near the gate, together with an older woman.