Page 6 of Mrs. Gardiner: Matchmaker (The Pemberley Collection #3)

Elizabeth was absolutely mortified at what happened at Pemberley, and she avoided discussing it with her aunt as well as she could. She couldn't get the imagining of Darcy carrying her out of her mind—how ridiculous!

First, she showed up uninvited at his home, and then, she fainted before him like some sort of pathetic damsel in distress. What must he think of her—why, it all very much looked like she might have contrived to faint before him, so he would be forced to carry her and be compromised! Of course, that was automatically disproved the moment no one made any demands—and truly, who would be as ridiculous as that, to suggest they marry over the event that he merely carried her inside?

It was a silly idea.

Elizabeth tossed and turned all night. She didn't understand why she fainted, but she did remember being momentarily overwhelmed by the thought of everything she had lost when she turned Darcy down that fateful day in April. Although he was kind and cordial to her at Pemberley, she couldn't quite find it within herself to begin to believe he still could love her.

What man would? She was no great beauty, and she had nothing to offer him but insolence, as she so dreadfully proved at Hunsford.

She lay awake, unable to sleep until the early sunlight began to peek through her windows, and she finally fell into some sort of exhausted dreamland. A dreamland of Pemberley and little beautiful children with Darcy's dark, midnight hair and his piercing eyes—

"Lizzy," he aunt gently prodded her with her hands, shaking her carefully, waking her up. "Lizzy, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I must wake you. Visitors—Mr. Darcy, and two others."

Elizabeth's eyes shot open. Of course; Darcy wanted to bring his sister to meet her—

"Oh, Aunt, I am a dreadful mess. How long can you delay them?"

"I can delay them a while, but try to hurry, dear."

Elizabeth nodded, and her aunt departed. She quickly dressed herself, having only modest traveling dresses, which needed little help from a maid. She glanced in the looking glass, and my, how tired she looked, with bags under her eyes, that dreadfully announced to the world her lack of any real meaningful sleep. Elizabeth let out an absurd laugh—if Darcy still admired her before, he'd be hard pressed to find any beauty in her appearance this morning—or this afternoon, rather, as she looked at the clock and saw it was after twelve. She took a deep breath and accepted her lackluster appearance.

She left the room and joined her uncle.

"Your aunt is visiting with them downstairs, I shall send for her."

Soon Mrs. Gardiner returned, followed by Mr. Darcy.

"Lizzy, Mr. Darcy has come to call," she said warmly, a light in her eyes as she addressed her niece. Elizabeth smiled weakly and then turned toward Darcy, who was bowing as he addressed her.

"I hope you have recovered from yesterday," he said.

"You'll have to forgive me," Elizabeth admitted with a light laugh, "for I did not have the easiest time falling asleep, for whatever reasons—and I'm afraid my aunt has had to wake me, even at this very late hour."

A look of worry flashed over Darcy's face just briefly as he said, "Do you believe you should see the apothecary again and make sure all is truly well?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Oh no, I'm sure I shall be fine."

She noticed Darcy looked uneasy for just a moment, but then he turned and addressed Mr. Gardiner, "Thank you for receiving me, sir. I'd like to bring up my sister, if that is permissible."

It was, and soon a tall, young girl came into the room. She was not exceedingly proud—only exceedingly shy. Elizabeth admired the careful way Darcy interacted with her, his familial love for his sister so apparent to everyone in the room. She spoke kindly to the girl, trying to bring her out of her shell—and heat rose upon her face when she realized that Darcy was watching her with that same contented smile he wore in his portrait.

What a fool she had been to have once believed his look of admiration was one of derision and disdain.

Soon she and Miss Darcy were interrupted, with Darcy saying, "Another caller comes who wishes to see you again, Miss Bennet—Mr. Bingley." And sure enough, the man came in. Elizabeth wanted to be angry with Bingley, but it was nigh impossible with how friendly he was and how gently he inquired about her sister. He even noted the duration of time they've spent away, down to the precise day.

Elizabeth was convinced—the man still loved Jane, even after all this time.

She turned her gaze toward Darcy as Bingley began speaking with her aunt and uncle and Miss Darcy.

"Mr. Darcy, I am honored you wish for me to know your sister," she said quietly to him, "As I am well aware of how strongly you wish to protect her."

This was a subtle allusion to the fact that, yes, she had read his letter. She wanted him to know, but didn't know how to say so. She wanted to tell him that she had read it and was fully transformed in her opinion of him—

"Indeed, I am always trying to protect my sister,” he said, and she could have sworn he understood her meaning, “As you are with yours."

He was acknowledging his wrong towards Jane. She smiled at him, finally relaxing—it felt as if they understood one another, but soon this fact only served to increase her weariness, her own anxiety and regret at her folly.

What a simpleton she had been, not to see this man for who he truly was.

"I feel so silly for what happened yesterday," she said, stepping a little closer and speaking low, "What a fool I must have appeared, to have allowed myself to become so fatigued."

"I could never believe you to appear a fool, Miss Bennet," he said, in an equally low voice.

It was like they two were alone, as the others and their conversations began to fade into the background. His words made her feel something, as a blush crept up on her face, making her breath catch. A vaguely sensuous light passed between them, and she felt her heart begin to beat a little more fully.

"I have acted a fool around you in the past, however," she said, noticing that he was watching her intently, his gaze as soft as a caress, traveling over her face and settling in her eyes, sending a shiver down her spine.

"I don't believe so."

She looked at him questioningly, but then she daringly alluded to that fateful evening: "I was foolish in my treatment of you, sir."

Their eyes caught, something significant passing between them. He seemed to read her, to know her, to understand what it was she was speaking of. She held her breath, waiting to hear his reaction.

Would he dismiss the conversation?

Would he be angry to be reminded of such a humiliation?

Or would he accept her attempt at an apology?

"Miss Bennet," he said very quietly now, moving just a touch closer to her, which did not go unnoticed by her as she swallowed silently, "You did not treat me in any way I did not deserve."

Her heart jolted, her pulse pounded. "My reproofs were unfair, they were based on wrong, prejudiced assumptions."

His gaze remained fixed on her, burning in its intensity. "But you were principled in your objections to me."

Her heart fluttered wildly in her breast. "I was wrong."

His eyes held hers. "You were honorable."

There was a silence now between them, the low timbre of the others' conversations filling the chasm between them. Elizabeth could smell his scent, woodsy and masculine, and it was all she could do not to lean in an inhale him entirely. Her heart was pounding inside her chest, his words filling her with something she's never felt before.

She finally spoke again, recovering her voice which was momentarily lost.

"Honorable or not, I was still wrong," she said softly, "I judged you and was so terribly prejudiced against you. My behavior was—it was abominable."

He stood so close she could feel the heat from his body, and his eyes pierced hers with such strength that she broke eye contact, looking away. She noticed her aunt watching them—blushing, Elizabeth looked away from Mrs. Gardiner and took a step back from Darcy. The space between them now felt like a engulfing void—she wanted to speak more, but she knew not what to say.

Darcy's voice roused her.

"Miss Bennet, I—"

But it was too late—Bingley was upon them again, and Miss Darcy, too. Darcy stepped back to allow his sister to invite them to dinner that evening. Elizabeth glanced at him, who rewarded her with his subtle smile, and feeling her heart move, she looked back at the girl as she nodded yes with enthusiasm. Elizabeth wanted to dine with them tonight, wanted to see Darcy again.

Elizabeth needed to see Darcy again.