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Chapter Eight

In the six weeks since her marriage to Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth had come to appreciate the quiet rhythm of life at Pemberley.

The summer days passed in a pleasant haze of morning walks through the extensive grounds, afternoons spent improving her knowledge of the estate’s management, and evenings in the excellent company of her husband and his sister.

She was sitting in the drawing-room early one afternoon with a book, Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley across the room working on some embroidery, when the unmistakable sound of carriage wheels on gravel disturbed the tranquillity.

“That does not sound like one of the farmer’s carts that bring provisions,” Elizabeth murmured, turning her head to look out of the window.

She had discovered a particular liking for reading in this window-seat, which had not only superb light at this time of the day but also an exceptionally comfortable cushion and a spectacular view of the lake and gardens if her book should fail to hold her attention.

Indeed, an elegant equipage was just rolling up the last stretch of the drive towards the house.

Whoever could it be? Darcy had assured her that none of his formidable relatives would be so rude as to intrude on Pemberley without invitation, not even Lady Catherine, and he had left word in Lambton that due to his recent marriage, Pemberley’s grounds were closed to visitors this summer.

Invitations from neighbours had been politely declined, and Georgiana had assured her that all their neighbours were much too well-bred to arrive unannounced and uninvited.

“Visitors?” Georgiana inquired softly, looking up from her embroidery frame with mild alarm in her eyes.

“Perhaps, though were are certainly not expecting anyone.” From this angle, Elizabeth could just see the front steps if she craned her neck slightly and pressed her forehead against the glass.

She watched as a footman hurried down the steps to attend to the carriage door and reveal their guests.

Mr. Bingley emerged first, turning to assist his sister.

Even from this distance, Elizabeth could discern Caroline Bingley’s rigid posture and the particular tilt of her chin that indicated displeasure. Mr. and Mrs. Hurst followed them.

“It appears to be the Bingleys,” Elizabeth said with some astonishment. “How strange they should arrive without sending word ahead.”

“Shall we go down to greet them?” Georgiana asked, already carefully folding her work.

Elizabeth nodded with a reassuring smile. “Of course. Though perhaps you might ask Mrs. Reynolds to prepare refreshments while I welcome them? It will give you a moment to compose yourself.”

Gratitude flashed across Georgiana’s features as she slipped from the room.

Elizabeth smoothed her gown, a simple but elegant day dress of pale blue muslin that she knew suited her well, and made her way to the entrance hall where she heard the distinct tones of her husband already greeting their unexpected guests.

“Darcy, old fellow!” Bingley’s enthusiastic voice carried through the corridor. “Hope you don’t mind our descending upon you without proper notice. Passing through on our way to visit our relatives in Scarborough, you know, and couldn’t resist stopping at Pemberley.”

Elizabeth entered the hall to find Mr. Bingley pumping her husband’s hand with his characteristic animation while Miss Bingley stood to the side, her travelling costume immaculate despite the journey, her expression a masterpiece of practiced civility.

The Hursts stood behind her, looking bored as usual.

“Mrs. Darcy,” Miss Bingley said, executing a perfect curtsy as Elizabeth approached. “How very well you look. Country air must agree with you tremendously.”

“Miss Bingley, what a pleasant surprise,” Elizabeth replied, acknowledging the greeting with a warm smile that belied her awareness of the other woman’s insincerity. “I trust your journey has been comfortable?”

“As comfortable as one might expect on these country roads,” Miss Bingley replied, her gaze drifting critically over the grand entrance hall as though seeking fault with its splendour. “Though worth every bump and jolt to see dear Pemberley again.”

Mr. Bingley turned from Darcy, his face lighting up at the sight of Elizabeth.

“Mrs. Darcy! I must offer my belated congratulations. Marriage suits you admirably.” His good-natured exuberance seemed genuine enough, though Elizabeth thought she detected a slight restraint beneath his usual effusiveness.

“Thank you, Mr. Bingley. We are very happy to receive you both at Pemberley,” Elizabeth replied, catching her husband’s eye with a subtly questioning glance. The slight shake of his head told her he was equally surprised by their arrival.

“You must be fatigued after your journey,” Darcy said, his tone polite but measured. “Elizabeth, perhaps we might show our guests to the blue sitting room? I will just speak to Mrs. Reynolds and ensure she has some guest suites at the ready.”

“Indeed, do come through. I believe Georgiana has gone to arrange refreshments.”

As they proceeded through the corridors of Pemberley, Elizabeth noted how Caroline Bingley’s gaze lingered on the elegant furnishings, the priceless artwork, the perfectly proportioned architecture.

There was something almost possessive in her scrutiny, as though mentally cataloguing treasures she had once hoped to claim as her own.

In the blue sitting room, with its magnificent views of the gardens, they settled into what promised to be an exercise in strained civility. Georgiana joined them shortly before a maid arrived with tea and delicate pastries presented on Pemberley’s finest china.

“Miss Darcy, how delightful to see you again,” Caroline cooed, her voice taking on the syrupy quality she reserved for those she deemed socially valuable.

“I have greatly missed your company; it is always a pleasure to be in the presence of such an accomplished young lady as yourself. You must play for us during our stay.”

“Oh! I... yes, if you wish,” Georgiana murmured, her gaze fixed on her teacup.

“My sister practices diligently,” Darcy said, his subtle shift in posture indicating his protective instincts had been roused. “Though I would not have her feel obligated to perform.”

“Nonsense, Darcy,” Bingley interjected with a laugh. “Miss Darcy’s modesty does her credit, but we all know her talents at the pianoforte are exceptional. Not unlike your sister, Mrs. Darcy. I recall Miss Mary Bennet was quite the musician.”

Elizabeth nearly choked on her tea at the comparison between Georgiana’s sensitive, accomplished playing and Mary’s heavy-handed performances. “Mary is devoted to her practice,” she managed diplomatically.

“And how is your charming family, Mrs. Darcy?” Caroline inquired, her emphasis on ‘charming’ suggesting quite the opposite sentiment. “Your sisters must miss your lively presence at Longbourn.”

“They are all well, thank you,” Elizabeth replied evenly. “Jane writes regularly with news from home.”

“Ah, Miss Bennet,” Bingley said, his voice softening noticeably. “She keeps well? That is... I hope she is in good health and spirits?”

“Quite well,” Elizabeth confirmed, watching his face carefully. There was a wistfulness there that suggested his feelings for Jane had not entirely faded.

Caroline’s lips thinned almost imperceptibly.

“And your other sisters? I understand the militia has left Meryton. What a great loss that must be to your family.” She looked as though she wanted to say more, perhaps bring up Wickham and Elizabeth’s ill-fated engagement, but Bingley jumped in with a remark on the delicious cakes.

The conversation meandered through various topics, with Caroline making pointed observations about the challenges of maintaining such a grand estate and expressing exaggerated concern about Elizabeth finding her place among Derbyshire society.

Throughout it all, Elizabeth maintained her composure, responding with just enough wit to satisfy propriety without engaging in open hostility.

After they had finished their tea, Darcy rose with measured grace. “Bingley, if you’re not too fatigued, I thought you might care to see the improvements I’ve made to the east pastures. There’s a drainage system I’ve implemented that might interest you.”

“Capital idea!” Bingley agreed, springing to his feet with notable enthusiasm. “Always keen to learn from your methods, Darcy. Hurst, will you join us?”

Mr. Hurst grunted, but got to his feet and followed Darcy and Bingley from the room. Mrs. Hurst exchanged a look with Caroline Bingley, a thinly veiled sneer, and Elizabeth sighed inwardly. How she wished she, too, could escape out of doors!

“Perhaps you would enjoy seeing the new additions to the library?” she suggested, knowing that Caroline would find it difficult to refuse such an offer without appearing uncultured.

"Of course, you are such a great reader," Mrs. Hurst said, and then looked at her sister and tittered a little nervously, perhaps recalling the conversation at Netherfield in which Darcy had once said no woman might be truly accomplished unless she improved her mind by extensive reading.

Caroline’s smile was brittle. “How thoughtful, Mrs. Darcy. Though I confess my interest in books extends primarily to their binding and appearance on the shelf. They do add such elegance to a room, do they not?”

The next hour passed in laborious conversation, with Georgiana growing increasingly withdrawn under Caroline’s patronising attention and Mrs. Hurst seeming torn between wanting to be ingratiating to Elizabeth but not annoy her sister.

When the clock chimed four, Elizabeth seized the opportunity to suggest her guests might wish to rest before dinner and she was sure the guest rooms had been made ready by now.