Page 28 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)
On the Way to Pemberley
A Few Hours Later
It was but five miles between the Wickhams’ home in Kympton and Pemberley, but Mr. Darcy had kindly sent his carriage to collect his dinner guests. It was an exceedingly comfortable carriage, as befitted his station, with deep, well-stuffed seats and the very best springs. The velvet curtains at the windows had been drawn back, and Elizabeth was enjoying both the ride and the scenery mightily.
“Is all of this land Pemberley’s?” she asked Alexander, who nodded and said, “It is. The park alone is a full ten miles around.”
The forest stretched as far as she could see, ranks upon ranks of oaks and sycamores and maples, all bare and gray now, of course, but lovely even in their grayness. Between them were faint hints of fir trees, their dark needles adorned with heavy stoles of snow, like queens in their white furs. A red fox, slinking along in hopes of finding a meal, added a bright spot of color to the nearly monochrome scene.
She lost sight of the forest as they ascended a hill and turned a corner, but she counted it no loss, as Pemberley's full glories burst upon her eye, wringing an amazed gasp from her lips. If the fir trees of the forest were queens, Pemberley was a splendid empress.
The house stood tall and imposing above her white satin lawn, the snow-covered grass sloping down to a lake that sparkled like diamonds in the sun and fed by a burbling trout stream. Blue shadows stained the snow, cast from a house some five or six stories high, banks of windows glittering like crystals. On the far end of the lake, a belvedere folly soared, its tall cupola adorned with lattices and filigrees of stonework, delicate as lace and softened further by a dusting of snow.
Elizabeth all but plastered her nose to the window, taking in the distant wilderness, the pleasing lake nearer to hand, and the magnificent edifice they were even now approaching.
The carriage came to a gentle halt, and within a few moments, the door was opened by a footman in livery.
Alexander Wickham lightly descended to the ground and then turned to hand out first his wife and then his sister by marriage. Elizabeth, looking around, was surprised to see Mr. Darcy hurrying down the steps with a welcoming smile on his face.
“Mrs. Wickham, Miss Bennet, Mr. Wickham, welcome to Pemberley!”
“Good evening,” Alexander said, bowing, and the ladies curtsied, and Darcy bowed in return. With those niceties completed, the master of Pemberley said, “Miss Bennet, may I escort you inside?”
She blushed a little and took his arm, and they began climbing the imposing stone steps which led to a large, black wooden door. As soon as the pair had attained the top step, the door was opened by a respectable-looking butler, who welcomed his master and guests inside with cool efficiency. After the visitors’ wraps had been taken by servants, Darcy guided the small party down a corridor and into a drawing room, which was pleasingly filled with well built, elegant furniture.
Two ladies were standing some feet away from a well-tended fire, and Darcy said, “You know my sister, Miss Darcy, but may I please introduce my sister’s companion, Mrs. Annesley.”
Elizabeth curtsied towards Mrs. Annesley, who was some forty years of age, and dressed modestly in dark wool and cap.
“It is an honor to meet you,” the older woman said with a smile, and Elizabeth and Lydia responded appropriately before Elizabeth said, “Miss Darcy, I remember hearing that you enjoy playing the pianoforte and are an excellent performer. Is that true?”
The girl blushed and looked at the carpeted floor.
“I like to play, yes,” she said softly, “though I do not pretend to be excellent.”
“Lizzy plays the pianoforte very well,” Lydia offered, which made Elizabeth laugh and shake her head.
“I do not perform all that well,” she confessed, “as I do not practice enough to be a truly accomplished musician. I enjoy playing, however. What are some of your favorite composers, Miss Darcy?”
“Oh, well, I like Beethoven very much, and Mozart.”
“Oh, so do I,” Elizabeth replied, and turned to Mrs. Annesley. “Do you play, Madame?”
“I do,” Mrs. Annesley declared, “though not as well as Miss Darcy.”
***
Small Dining Room
Pemberley
Half an Hour Later
Darcy looked around the table and was satisfied. He had initially been uncertain where to host this small dinner. He wished to impress Miss Bennet, and the great dining room, with its magnificent oak leaves and fine wallpaper, was imposing indeed.
But of course, he wished to be able to speak to Miss Bennet as well, and he hoped that Georgiana would form a friendship with the young lady. Therefore, he had chosen to have dinner served in a smaller, less formal dining room, which would allow for easy discussion amongst the small group.
He had ordered an excellent but not overly ostentatious meal, remembering that Miss Bennet, at least, had declared herself fonder of plain dishes than ragout. Thus he had requested turkey and potatoes and vegetables and bread, with treacle tarts for dessert.
She seemed to be enjoying the meal, though of course he did not stare at her, as that would be rude. He gloried, however, in how easily Georgiana spoke of music and reading with Miss Bennet, while Mrs. Annesley and Mrs. Wickham chatted amiably of fashion.
“Mr. Darcy,” Alexander said from his side, and he turned a slightly startled look at his friend, who was wearing a knowing expression on his face.
“Mr. Wickham,” he replied coolly, though he felt his cheeks warm.
“I wish to thank you for singling us out for your attention on Sunday at church,” Alexander said softly. “It was very kind of you and will help Lydia be more easily accepted by the local ladies.”
“It was my pleasure, of course,” Darcy said, and he meant it. He thought Lydia Wickham a foolish young woman, but he respected her husband and greatly admired her sister. It was a small thing to spend time with the Wickhams and, by extension, Miss Bennet.
Indeed, he would make a point of attending church in Kympton frequently. It was the least he could do, after all, given Alexander’s sacrifice in his choice of a wife.
***
Library
Pemberley
Later
“Oh, Mr. Darcy!” Miss Bennet breathed, turning in a circle and gazing at the magnificence around her. “It is incredible!”
Darcy could not stop the grin that tugged at his mouth in response to this, even if he wanted to. Miss Bennet was a great reader, a true bibliophile, unlike some other women of his acquaintance, whose love of books was aped in a vain bid to impress him. When she had requested to see his library, he had been only too happy to oblige, gleefully anticipating her first sight of it.
Still, he had not expected this reaction, which transcended mere pleasure. She was radiant in her admiration, eyes wide and sparkling, lips slightly parted, cheeks faintly flushed. Darcy's mind was filled suddenly with a vision of her, no longer Miss Bennet but rather Mrs. Darcy, curled up in one of the deep armchairs drawn up before the fire with a stack of books, sitting and reading in companionable silence with him as he addressed his correspondence at the imposing rolltop desk in the corner. In moments like these, his own arguments against making her an offer seemed to pale.
“What kind of books do you like, Miss Bennet?” Georgiana asked, and he shook himself free of his reverie.
Miss Bennet laughed and said, “I like most books – well, not philosophical books, but novels and plays and even some scientific treatises, though it depends on the subject as well.”
“Do you have any Gothic novels?” Mrs. Wickham piped up, and Georgiana smiled and said, “We do, in this corner here. My brother does not entirely approve of them, I think, but he is kind enough to purchase them for me, although he does not permit them pride of place in the room.”
This was said with such archness that Darcy turned an amazed look on his sister. Georgiana had always been a shy creature in the presence of strangers, and ever since the disaster at Ramsgate, shyer still. Was it possible that she had already partially fallen under the winsome spell of Elizabeth Bennet?
“May I see the Gothic novels?” Mrs. Wickham asked eagerly. “I am not a great reader like Elizabeth, but I do love novels!”
The two girls made their way to the corner of the room where such tomes were neatly stored, and Elizabeth began wandering to and fro from one shelf to another, and Darcy said, as casually as possible, “Wickham, if one or the other of your ladies would care to borrow some books from the library, I would be glad to assist in such a way. We have a great many books, after all.”
“Thank you, sir,” Alexander said gravely, and Darcy made a point of not looking at the parson for fear of observing amusement on his friend’s face.