Page 32 of Return to Pemberley

Chapter fourteen

Confronting the Past

T he Pemberley library, scene of so many grave consultations and equally many self-important silences, presented on this occasion a tableau not unworthy of a Roman senate, had the latter been conducted at a table inlaid with marquetry and surrounded by walls redolent of rosewood and vellum.

Mr. Darcy, having disposed before himself the papers of estate business with his customary union of diligence and vexation, was so absorbed in deciphering his steward's calculations regarding the annual tithe as to remain quite insensible to the altered cadence of footsteps in the corridor.

Had he possessed less absorption in his accounts, he might have remarked that the morning's hush was interrupted by a duet of laughter—one voice light as silver, the other restrained yet unmistakably familiar.

The library doors opened with neither the haste of servile errand nor the diffidence of supplication, but with the measured advance of two ladies possessed of shared resolve.

Elizabeth entered foremost, her bearing at once gracious and determined, her countenance arranged to suggest that while she came in peace, she was prepared for war; beside her, Georgiana advanced with such self-possession as her natural timidity would allow, betrayed only by the tremor of her smile.

The effect resembled nothing so much as an embassy—though which lady served as ambassador and which as envoy extraordinary might have puzzled the most astute observer.

Mr. Darcy, discovered in the very act of inscribing marginalia upon a ledger, raised his eyes with such perfect blankness of expression that Elizabeth momentarily feared she had interrupted matters of genuine consequence.

Yet his gaze, after its initial survey, underwent such softening as would not have escaped the notice of the least observant sister.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth began, investing the title with all the gravity of a parliamentary opening, though her eyes danced with the private intelligence of a wife secure in her position, "pray forgive this invasion of your sanctuary.

We come before you on a matter which conscience—that most tyrannical of masters—will not permit us to defer. "

"Indeed," she continued, advancing a step nearer his desk, "we find ourselves compelled to argue the cause of justice, though I confess it pains me to disturb a gentleman so evidently absorbed in the delightful pastime of calculating tithes."

Georgiana, summoning courage from her sister's example, ventured with growing resolution: "We have deliberated most carefully, Brother.

I—" Here she faltered, but recovering herself with admirable spirit, pressed forward: "I believe Elizabeth speaks with perfect justice.

To leave the Shepherd's Lot in uncertainty, when the Blackwoods may possess legitimate claim, would be neither honourable nor kind.

Should we not act before they are reduced to seeking us out?

I am persuaded—" and here her voice gained strength from conviction, "—it is precisely what our dear mama would have counselled. "

This final appeal, delivered with such earnest dignity that even the relentless library clock seemed to suspend its rhythm, was succeeded by a silence of considerable weight.

The master of Pemberley remained motionless, his attention traveling from the documents at hand to the two figures ranged before him in obvious alliance.

Elizabeth, well acquainted with the deliberate nature of his mind and the reverence he bore for established custom, prepared herself for lengthy disputation.

When at last he spoke, however, his tone carried both gravity and the faintest suggestion of amusement.

"I perceive," said Mr. Darcy, folding his hands with ceremonial precision, "that I am to be subjected to a most thorough siege. Pray, am I to understand that you ladies have already reached your verdict, or shall I be permitted the courtesy of hearing evidence before I surrender?"

"Oh, we should be perfectly delighted to present our case with all due formality," replied Elizabeth, her smile betraying her satisfaction at this promising opening, "though I confess I had hoped our argument possessed sufficient merit to recommend itself without elaborate ceremony."

"After all," she added, tilting her head with studied innocence, "when justice and expedience walk hand in hand, surely even the most cautious gentleman must acknowledge their claims?"

Georgiana, emboldened by this exchange, added with quiet firmness: "It touches not merely upon right, Fitzwilliam, but upon the tranquillity of conscience.

If the Blackwoods suffer want while we possess abundance, and we remain inactive—why, the burden upon our family name would be insupportable.

" She paused, then with touching simplicity continued: "Mama used to say that those whom Providence has blessed with strength bear the sacred duty of protecting such as have no voice to plead their own cause. "

The solemnity of this sentiment affected Elizabeth profoundly; she regarded Georgiana with sisterly pride before turning expectantly toward her husband, whose austere features now betrayed the slightest inclination toward softening.

Mr. Darcy considered the matter with his customary deliberation, then—whether moved by the force of their reasoning or by the spectacle of such perfect accord between wife and sister—laid down his pen with a gesture betokening graceful capitulation.

"You present a most compelling argument," said he.

"I propose, therefore, that we invite Mr. Blackwood to Pemberley.

Let him state his case openly. If his claims prove substantiated, justice shall be done immediately.

If not, we shall at least have satisfied honour and given the matter such attention as befits our station.

" He directed his gaze first to Elizabeth, then more gently to Georgiana.

"Will this resolution content my advisors, or do you require additional concessions? "

The ladies exchanged a look of such triumph as might have illuminated the entire county. For an instant they stood suspended in victory; then, as by mutual consent, dissolved into laughter so infectious that it reached even the housekeeper in her distant domain.

Georgiana, overcome by relief and success, forgot propriety sufficiently to clasp Elizabeth's hands in both her own. "We have prevailed!" she whispered, her cheeks bright with conquest. "I never dared hope it might prove so simple!"

"Simple it becomes, dearest Georgiana," replied Elizabeth, returning the pressure warmly, "when one's cause rests upon principle. In such circumstances, I believe we are quite invincible."

Mr. Darcy, observing this display with the benevolent resignation of one who has learned to accept, if not entirely relish, the mutiny of his household, permitted himself a smile. "I trust," said he, "your sense of triumph will survive the necessity of explaining this decision to Lady Catherine."

This observation prompted such renewed merriment that the very bookshelves seemed to echo their delight, the sound ascending, in Elizabeth's estimation, to constitute a complete moral victory.

Only when their laughter subsided, and the three stood together in companionable quiet, did Elizabeth allow herself fuller reflection upon the moment.

She perceived in her companions' faces not merely the prospect of justice served, but the deeper assurance of belonging—of having discovered her proper place not as interloper, but as advocate, sister, and wife.

The library's grandeur, the sweep of park beyond its windows, even the weighty burden of Darcy heritage, seemed in that instant less significant than the simple reality of family.

And as Mr. Darcy placed his arm about her shoulders while Georgiana leaned close with conspiratorial delight, Elizabeth reflected that perhaps this quiet domestic triumph surpassed all others in true worth.

T he following morning dawned with such optimism as might be remarked even in the capricious climate of Derbyshire; the mists released their jealous hold upon the hollows with unusual grace, and the air fairly trembled with the promise of decisive action.

Elizabeth, never content to reign merely over the distribution of toast and morning correspondence, had already declared her intention to compose the invitation to Mr. Blackwood without delay.

Mr. Darcy, whose nature inclined toward swift resolution once a course was determined, readily concurred; thus they were presently discovered in the morning room—Elizabeth armed with a collection of rough notes and precedent letters, Darcy equipped with his finest inkstands, wafers, and that substantial paper reserved for communications of exceptional gravity.

For some moments, the business of composition proceeded in contemplative silence.

Darcy, who wielded his pen with the deliberate precision of one determined that even his penmanship should testify to the solemnity of his house, commenced with conventional formality: "Sir—It having come to my attention, through sources both official and familial, that there exists some question regarding the disposition of the parcel known as Shepherd's Lot, I undertake to address the matter with directness and complete candour.

" He paused, reading the sentence aloud with such gravity as might befit a pronouncement from the bench, then sought Elizabeth's approval.

Elizabeth, having conceived a more diplomatic approach, offered gently: "Perhaps we might moderate the introduction, lest we cast Mr. Blackwood in the role of opponent from the very outset?

I would venture something rather more on this order: 'Sir—It is with profound respect for both past and future that I write concerning Shepherd's Lot, a subject which touches with equal weight the history of your family and my own. '"