Page 8 of Reckless, Headstrong Girl (Pride and Prejudice Variations #5)

PEMBERLEY

E lizabeth did not like agreeing with Caroline Bingley about anything, but she could not help but concede that Pemberley was the most beautiful place she had ever beheld, and the estate was perhaps deserving of even more gushing praise than Caroline had given it.

The sight of the house, standing at the far edge of a magnificent park framed by wooded hills that retreated into the distance and mirrored in a stream-fed lake, caused a gasp of surprise from Elizabeth.

With a mixture of wonder and trepidation, she followed the housekeeper on a tour with her aunt and uncle, conscious that everywhere she stepped, Mr Darcy had stepped, that everything she looked at was deeply familiar to, and of use to, him.

When they had taken in all the elegance, refinement, and artistry of the interior, the housekeeper directed them to enjoy the gardens and public paths, and it was just this side of a formal rose garden that Elizabeth stepped around a giant elm and abruptly came face to face with Mr Darcy.

“Mr Darcy!”

“Miss Bennet!”

Elizabeth’s embarrassment nearly overcame her. She stammered and stuttered incoherently. “We were assured, Mr Darcy—I would never have dreamt of imposing! You must not think I came here to-to?—”

Mr Darcy seemed equally discomposed, and he stammered and stuttered incoherently at the same time.

“I am very glad to—you are very, that is, of course you are welcome… What-what brings you here, Miss Bennet?” He excused himself abruptly before hearing her answer, leaving Elizabeth panting with shame and distress.

“Oh, Aunt!” cried Elizabeth. “The worst has happened! Uncle, we must go at once! I cannot stay here another minute!”

Mr and Mrs Gardiner exchanged a look of dawning understanding and obligingly turned back to where their coach stood on the north side of the house.

While a groom went to fetch the horses, Elizabeth paced, wild to be gone, and her aunt and uncle politely pretended not to notice her agitation.

As if to solidify and thoroughly underscore Elizabeth’s extreme mortification, who should then burst out of a French door and run down the stairs towards them but Mr Darcy?

Elizabeth braced herself for the most horrid moment of her life. He was about to tell her, in front of her family, that she was not welcome at Pemberley.

“Miss Bennet,” he said, struggling to catch his breath. “Forgive me for being in such haste before. I have just come from the road, and I wished to change my coat.” He looked around. “But surely you are not leaving?”

“I believe we should, sir,” she replied with cold dignity.

But in the end, they did not leave Pemberley for another hour at least. Mr Darcy, with warmth and enthusiasm, made them welcome.

He asked to be introduced to her relations in trade, spoke to them as equals, readily made conversation, and offered to show them his trout stream after waving off a gardener who was poised to do so.

Mr Darcy’s manners astonished her, but he surprised her even more when he humbly asked for permission to introduce his sister to Elizabeth, explaining that she would arrive on the morrow with a party consisting of Mr Bingley and his sisters.

Upon the whole, Elizabeth left Pemberley in a state that was close to one of her mother’s famous nervous collapses.

She could not grasp the how or why of it, but Mr Darcy did not appear to hate her as much as he should.

That evening, Mrs Gardiner had the temerity to bring up the subject of Mr Darcy.

“Mr Darcy did not impress me as being so awfully proud or disagreeable, Elizabeth.”

“No, Aunt,” Elizabeth snapped before standing abruptly and going to her room. She could hardly bear her own reflections in this vein, much less endure the remarks of her family suggesting that she might have misjudged the man.

Just after eleven the following morning, the earliest a polite morning call could be paid, Mr Darcy arrived at the Lambton Inn with his sister.

This mark of attention impressed upon Elizabeth the gentleman’s determination to be civil, and much of her agitation of the previous day was eclipsed by her equal determination to be pleasant and civil in return.

She instantly comprehended that she could do Mr Darcy no greater kindness than to be kind to his sister.

He clearly doted on her, and the girl, contrary to Mr Wickham’s unflattering characterisation of her arrogance, was cripplingly shy.

Elizabeth’s heart swelled as she went forward, took the young lady’s hands in hers, and began to overwhelm her with warmth and friendly conversation.

The strategy worked. Miss Darcy finally looked up, encountered Elizabeth’s twinkling dark eyes, and relaxed.

By the end of the visit Elizabeth, knew without question they would get on famously, given half a chance, and she was cautiously pleased that her aunt and uncle accepted the Darcys’ invitation to dinner.

Even the arrival of Charles Bingley, all amiable enthusiasm and pointed inquiries after Jane, could not rob Elizabeth of her twinges of breathless excitement.

She greeted Mr Bingley warmly, and her resentment against him for abandoning her sister did not thrive.

How could any feeling but heart flutterings survive the frankly tender look on Mr Darcy’s face as he stood watching her?

She had never blushed so much in all her life.