Page 37 of Five Gentlemen at Netherfield (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

Sitting Room

Pemberley

Two Days Later

Noon

“You are going to wear out the carpet, Darcy,” Colonel Fitzwilliam remarked.

Darcy froze in position and looked down at the carpet, only to be distracted by his boots. Were they sufficiently polished? His valet always did a wonderful job, of course, but…

“What?” he asked, turning to Richard with a puzzled frown. “What did you say?”

“I said you are going to wear a hole in the carpet,” his cousin said with a grin.

Darcy wrinkled his nose and glanced at the clock for the tenth time this morning. There was no particular reason to expect the carriages from Longbourn for several hours, given that there were children in the party, and his limited experience with children was that they made journeys longer.

Elizabeth might not arrive until closer to dinnertime, so he might as well work in the office on some correspondence.

But he could not. He absolutely could not. He missed her so much, so very much, and she would be here today barring some catastrophe like a broken wheel.

What if a wheel broke? She might be stuck in some inn for a day or more, which would be annoying for her and devastating for him, because he could not wait to see her. Perhaps he should ride out on Phoenix along the road to meet them?

But then what? The carriages were full, so he would merely have to turn around and ride back, and Phoenix might get tired, and …

“You love her very much,” Richard stated, and now his tone was a grave one.

“I do,” he said and wandered over to sink down across from the colonel. “I do, so very much. I am incredibly eager to see her and also a little frightened, because she will only marry me if she genuinely loves and respects me. What if I cannot win her, Richard?”

The colonel regarded his cousin sympathetically and said, “I will not pretend that it is a certain thing, because Miss Elizabeth is a remarkable young woman. I am also confident she would not journey here if she were not inclined to think a match was likely.”

This was, Darcy thought, reasonable enough. The lady he loved would speak the truth under all circumstances.

“What of you?” he asked, turning a curious look on the colonel. “Are you eager to see Miss Mary?”

“I am, indeed, but not in the same way you are,” his cousin said.

“I am not in love with Miss Mary, though I like her very much. I also have less hope of winning her. She is a wealthy woman who knows her own mind, and I think it entirely reasonable that she will decide against me in favor of another.”

Darcy was surprised. “Truly? You are very well connected, honorable, generous, and a war hero.”

The colonel shrugged and said, “I am not certain about the hero part, but given that she has a large dowry, there are many gentlemen who would be pleased to marry her. We are quite dissimilar, I believe, and she may conclude that we are too dissimilar.”

“I do not think that Miss Elizabeth and I…,” Darcy began, and then turned, mouth still open, as the door swung clear to reveal a footman.

“Sirs, two carriages have been spied coming down the driveway,” the young man said.

Darcy did not even bother to reply. He was too busy walking quickly toward the door.

***

The beauty of Derbyshire was like a balm to Elizabeth’s weary soul, and she drank it in like spiced wine.

This was their third day of travel, and though she had brought a book with her to read in the carriage on the way, it had lain abandoned on the seat beside her for most of the way, as the landscape outside garnered the majority of her attention.

There had been chances to explore it a little as they had stopped often to rest or change horses, while the children ran over greensward and shouted happily to burn up energy before climbing back into the two carriages.

During these many halts on their journey, Elizabeth had seized the opportunities to ramble about, peek behind hedgerows, and watch frolicking lambs.

The inns where they had stayed overnight had been very pleasant indeed, catering to the gentry and consequently in possession of clean rooms, freshly aired sheets, lovely vases of flowers, and excellent meals.

Elizabeth and Mary had crept into bed together the first night, lying back to back for warmth, their feet stretched out to where the maids had recently removed the warming pans.

It had taken neither sister very long to drop off to sleep, but while Mary slept soundly all the night through, Elizabeth kept waking thinking she heard her father calling for her, or one of the servants knocking at the door, or her mother’s voice strident with distress.

Each time, the room had been still and silent, a reddish glow from the low-burned embers of the banked fire, white moonlight sliding across wood-paneled walls.

No servants knocking or parents calling for Elizabeth to come take on responsibilities they could not …

or would not. Still, she had waited, listening, for several minutes before drifting back into an uneasy sleep each time.

It was not until the eastern horizon was graying with the impending dawn that she had finally fallen into a true and restful sleep.

Elizabeth had been tired all day through on the second day of their journey, not wandering far on their many stops, and more than once content to sit on the blanket and eat sandwiches with her aunt and little cousins.

It was an odd sort of weariness, though, almost …

wholesome, if one could apply such a term to a heaviness of limb and slowness of thought.

It was not the overwhelming exhaustion of the past few months, always something else demanding attention, always another detail that needed addressing, always another problem to be solved.

It was more the somnolence of a hot summer day, the only sounds the buzzing of insects and the lowing of cattle in their fields, as one found a sheltered, sunny spot in the grass to take a nap.

It was a peaceful sort of weariness that allowed one to slow down and observe the world and all good things in it.

The second night, Elizabeth had slept soundly, not waking even once.

Now on this, the third day, Elizabeth had successfully set aside her worries about Longbourn and her family, and the duties she had left behind, and the tension was easing from her neck and shoulders and back with each mile between herself and her home.

Her mind was consumed with her excitement as the carriage wheels rolled closer and closer to Pemberley.

After all she had heard of it, she could not wait to lay eyes upon the estate’s beauty.

Elizabeth was not the only one eager to arrive, as Mary too sat with knitting discarded, gazing raptly out of the window on the other side of the carriage.

Across from them, Phoebe and Priscilla, their young female cousins, had abandoned books and toys on the velvet squabs and sat making little smears on the glass with their noses, their only sounds little squeaks and gasps of awe as they gaped out at the passing landscape, and peering ahead for their first glimpse of Pemberley.

The other carriage was behind them, carrying Mrs. Gardiner and her two sons, and a nursemaid, and Elizabeth had no doubt that the little boys were even bouncier than their older sisters.

The eager inhabitants did not have to wait long.

Abruptly, the carriage turned onto a lane which led into the forested parkland.

The road sloped gently upward, weaving back and forth among oaks and elms and sycamores and evergreens, tall kings of the forest and slender trunks in the newness of life and saplings just raising their green heads.

The boughs were filled with an abundance of birds, twittering and singing and fluttering from branch to branch, squirrels leaping boldly from limb to trunk to ground and back again, rabbits and foxes peeping through brush and past moss.

Then suddenly they were out, as though the trees had run up against an unmarked boundary.

The wood ended, and the carriage stopped to allow the inhabitants to look out from a considerable eminence, which commanded a lovely view of the valley stretched out below them.

Only after a minute could Elizabeth consider the beauties of the landscape, however, for Pemberley House demanded her attention.

It was set in a most desirable position, perhaps halfway up the hill on the opposite side of the hollow, a handsome stone edifice of age and grandeur.

Dozens of windows winked in the sun, the glass well-polished and gleaming brightly in welcome even at this distance.

Behind the house, in a haze of green, stood a forest, the twin of that through which the travelers had just passed, vanishing across the distant ridges .

Before the imposing front door spread a great grassy lawn, bisected by a stream which meandered out of the woods for some distance before splashing over the grounds, swelling in size and importance as it did, to vanish down into the valley below.

Reeds and rushes adorned its banks, sometimes high, sometimes so low it seemed each ripple of water must overflow; with here and there natural clearings in the vegetation where someone might stand to ponder the stream or to fish in it.

It was an altogether delightful scene, designed by nature to please, and with but little imposition of man’s taste on it, and that done subtly and in harmony with the native surroundings rather than against them.

Priscilla and Phoebe were in raptures, and even Mary gave voice to admiration, but Elizabeth’s heart was too full of the beauty before her to manage a word.

The coachmen, deeming their passengers to have been suitably impressed, clucked to their horses, which began pulling the carriages down the road into the valley below.

Indeed, within the carriage, all were eager to arrive at the house and to pay their compliments to the master of such a grandly appointed estate.

A wooden bridge rumbled beneath their wheels, then gave way to crunching gravel, and they arrived at last.

The carriage came to a gentle halt, and the ladies began excitedly gathering books and reticules and accouterments, and then the door was opened from the outside, and a strong, gloved hand reached in to help the ladies out.

The two girls stepped out first, followed by Mary, and finally Elizabeth, who was startled to realize that the hand belonged to her suitor, Mr. Darcy, who smiled at her.

“Miss Bennet,” he said. “Welcome to Pemberley.”

She smiled back, and, strangely enough, felt her already relaxed muscles relax even more.

He looked so strong, so determined, so faithful, so sturdy!

She knew that she could depend on him. She could not find words to express her joy, but a radiant smile wreathed her face as she said, “Good day, Mr. Darcy.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Gardiner,” a familiar voice said from Elizabeth’s left, and she turned in surprise to see Colonel Fitzwilliam, with Mary on his arm, greeting Mrs. Gardiner and her young sons.

“Good morning, Colonel, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Thank you for inviting us here. We are very appreciative.”

“It is our pleasure, of course,” Darcy said, turning toward the older woman as he reluctantly released Elizabeth’s hand. “Might I be introduced to your children?”

The children were introduced, and then the party was invited within to refresh themselves, and Elizabeth climbed the stone steps to the great front door on the arm of Mr. Darcy, full of excitement about the upcoming visit.