Tonight, they would return as Miss Darcy’s dinner guests along with Mr Bingley and his sisters, whom Elizabeth understood had visited Pemberley every summer for years.
Running her finger along the edge of the windowpane, Elizabeth endeavoured to ignore the quickening of her pulse as she watched Mr Darcy approach the inn and gesture for her aunt and uncle to precede him through the front entrance. Although she no longer disliked him as she had in Kent, neither was she ready to admit the opposite: that she had come to like him very well within the span of three impossibly short days. His metamorphosis from proud and unpleasant to amicable was unexpected, to say the least—as unexpected as his civility to her, his hospitality, and his smile. Constantly, did she ask herself, what had inspired such a transformation? Was it for her sake he was so altered? Surely, his improved manners were not the result of his having taken her reproofs to heart!
All too soon, she heard voices in the corridor—her uncle’s jovial tenor and Mr Darcy’s rich baritone. In the next instant, the door to the parlour was thrown open and Mr and Mrs Gardiner entered the room.
“Lizzy,” said her uncle with a bright smile and a twinkle in his eye, “you will never guess with whom we had the pleasure of meeting this morning.”
Her aunt looked pointedly at Elizabeth as Mr Darcy appeared behind her, removing his hat and ducking his head so as not to hit it on the heavy, oak beam above the door. His eyes found Elizabeth in an instant and settled there—on her face and her eyes and her mouth. The tips of his ears turned red, and a vivid slap of colour appeared high on his cheeks, but his steady, piercing gaze did not falter.
Elizabeth felt a heated blush bloom upon her own cheeks and endeavoured to appear composed, as composed as possible while he regarded her so intently, blushing like a schoolboy. Her curtsey was merely perfunctory, but her smile was welcoming and heartfelt. “Mr Darcy. This is indeed a pleasant surprise. I hope this morning finds you well?”
The corners of Mr Darcy’s mouth lifted as he bowed. “I am very well, Miss Bennet. I confess I was surprised you did not accompany your aunt and uncle on their walk through the village. I know how fond you are of exercise, especially when the weather is fine. I hope you were not indisposed.”
“Not at all, sir. I elected to remain behind to read a letter from my sister Jane. As I have not heard from her for some time, I was impatient for any bit of news I could glean from Longbourn.”
“Of course,” he replied. “I trust that your sister is in good health, and all of your sisters and your parents as well?”
“They are all in excellent health, sir.” She glanced at her aunt and uncle and, with an arch look, informed them, “Jane writes that my father has decided to take everyone to the seaside.”
“Has he!” cried Mrs Gardiner. “How wonderful, for the children especially. When are they set to leave, Lizzy? I ought to write to your mother directly.”
“According to Jane, they were likely to have departed Longbourn yesterday.”
“And where are they off to?” Mr Gardiner enquired, smoothing his hands along the lapels of his coat. “I understand Lydia was eager to go to Brighton with her friends, Colonel Forster and his wife, but your father decided against the scheme. Perhaps they are to join them after all?”
Elizabeth glanced at Mr Darcy, whose expression had become inscrutable as he watched her. “When last I spoke to my father, he was adamant that Brighton—and certain society there—was best avoided. His opinion has not altered. They are for Kent instead and shall reside there for several weeks. Where in Kent remains a mystery at present, as not even Jane is privy to that information as yet.”
The Gardiners expressed their approval of Kent but shook their heads at what they perceived as a poor attempt by Mr Bennet to have a bit of fun at Lydia’s expense. “How like your father to keep their destination a secret,” said her aunt with more than a hint of disapprobation in her tone, “though I am very glad he saw fit to confide in Jane. Should their carriage become upset and fall into a ravine, we would have had no notion of their general direction.”
“Now, now,” said Mr Gardiner, patting his wife’s hand with a reassuring smile. “Such morbidity, my dear, will never do. All will be well. Kent is a lovely county. I am sure everyone shall arrive in one piece to enjoy it.”
“Kent,” said Mr Darcy, looking fixedly at Elizabeth, “ is very beautiful, as I am certain you recall from your stay with your friends in Hunsford. The southernmost coast is seventy miles or so to the south of it, and is home to many seaside resorts, most of which offer an impressive variety of attractions and comforts. I have no doubt your family will enjoy themselves, regardless of where they stay.” His voice was warm, as warm as the look in his eyes. “I have been to Brighton as well, but found its amusements were not to my liking. I much prefer the subtle beauty of Kent to the ostentation of Brighton.”
Elizabeth could tell at once Mr Darcy was not only pleased by what she had related of her family’s destination, but relieved. He had taken the trouble of writing to her father, warning him of Mr Wickham’s dissolution and depravity, and his warning had not gone unheeded. “I am certain you are right,” she told him, endeavouring to keep her tone light as she returned his steadfast gaze. “I well recall the loveliness of Lady Catherine’s park. If the rest of the county is as pleasant, my family may never wish to leave!”
Before anything more could be said of the seaside or Kent or Elizabeth’s family, a serving girl arrived with their breakfast and her uncle extended an invitation to Mr Darcy to join them.
Mr Darcy glanced from Mr Gardiner to Elizabeth, then back to her uncle with something akin to regret. “I thank you for your hospitality, but I am afraid I must decline. I have business this morning with my steward and am expected back at Pemberley by half ten.”
“I understand, sir. We will dine with you tonight in any case.”
“Of course. I look forward to your coming, as does my sister. She was pleased beyond measure to have received Mrs Gardiner and Miss Bennet at Pemberley yesterday.” He paused to clear his throat. “I sincerely hope you will give my proposal serious consideration. I cannot think of anything my sister, or I, would enjoy more.”
“You are generous, sir,” said Mr Gardiner.
A rueful smile appeared on Mr Darcy’s countenance. “I am selfish. I desire to see those I love happy. Your society is most welcome at Pemberley.” He bowed. “Good day, Mr Gardiner. Mrs Gardiner.” He turned to Elizabeth and his voice took on a decidedly tender tone. “Good day, Miss Bennet.”
Before Elizabeth could bid him a good day in turn—or utter a single word of sense for that matter—Mr Darcy bowed to her, turned on his heel, and quit the room.
“You are joking, of course,” said Elizabeth to her uncle an hour later as they sat around the breakfast table, now nearly emptied of cold ham, seasonal fruit, and cakes. She reached for her water glass, diversion dancing in her eyes, and raised it to her lips.
Mr Gardiner chuckled as he speared a grape with his fork. “Indeed, I am in earnest. We are invited to stay at Pemberley as Mr and Miss Darcy’s guests for however long we like.”
Elizabeth stared at him, unable to credit what she had heard.
“Come now, Lizzy,” said her aunt, giving Elizabeth a significant look. “Do not be missish. Mr Darcy extending such a generous invitation to us is clearly a compliment to you.”
Elizabeth made no answer, and Mrs Gardiner sighed.
Mr Gardiner, likely sensing the ladies required privacy, set his napkin upon the table and rose from his chair. “I believe,” he said to his wife, “I shall walk to the green and return in half an hour.”
The door had barely shut behind him when Mrs Gardiner said, “Mr Darcy admires you, Elizabeth. A blind man could see his admiration. The question remains, do you return it?”
‘You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you…’
Elizabeth averted her eyes to the window, where she could see the spire of the church in the distance. Not every word Mr Darcy had uttered to her at the parsonage that fateful afternoon had been ugly. “I cannot deny that I esteem him. Indeed, I like him. But you know it has not always been so. We have spent so much time over the course of our acquaintance misunderstanding one another and causing each other pain.” She shook her head. “I was awful to him in Hertfordshire, and even worse in Kent. He would be well within his right never to speak to me let alone invite me into his home.”
“And yet, Mr Darcy seems determined to do the opposite.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth allowed, forcing herself to meet her aunt’s steady, encouraging gaze. “He has been beyond generous since we met at Pemberley the other day. Beyond civil in every respect.”
Mrs Gardiner smiled gently. “It would be a brilliant match for you. A love match, if you could see your way to open your heart to him.” She reached for Elizabeth’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “I will not push you. I am not your mother. But I cannot in good conscience turn a blind eye to Mr Darcy’s interest in you, not when he has singled you out the way he has—calling on you in Lambton not once but twice, and inviting us to stay at Pemberley as his guests. It would be ill-advised. The question remains: Would you like to be a guest at Pemberley while we are here?”
Elizabeth bit her lip. The idea of being in Mr Darcy’s house—of living in Mr Darcy’s house—unsettled her in ways she was ill-prepared to consider at the moment. Rather than give a reasonable answer, she resorted to humour. “The house is tolerable I suppose, and Mr Bingley appears to be as congenial as ever, but I am afraid the society of Miss Bingley and the Hursts leaves much to be desired.”
“Lizzy,” her aunt chided. “Do be serious.”
“Very well,” Elizabeth told her as a shadow of a smile appeared on her countenance. “If you insist upon my being serious, I shall tell you that I like Miss Darcy very much. She is a delightful young woman, if not a bit shy. I confess I should like to know her better.”
“And what of Pemberley’s master?”
Elizabeth laughed, but her levity soon took a more thoughtful turn. “I hardly know. Of late, Mr Darcy’s behaviour has been beyond reproach. I can find nothing to criticise. But we have been in company together only three times in as many days.” She toyed with a ribbon on the sleeve of her gown. “I suppose, if he continues as he is and does not revert back to the Mr Darcy of old, that knowing him better will give way to my liking him better. How much I shall like him remains to be seen.”
Having had enough seriousness for one morning, she assumed an arch look. “In any case, I know that you should like to stay at Pemberley, Aunt. Since you and my uncle have been so kind as to bring me all the way to Derbyshire to see the peaks, the least I can do is ensure your comfort is of the finest quality while we are here. Yes. I will go to Pemberley.”
“Oh, Lizzy! You will not be disappointed, mark my words. The woods are some of the most beautiful in the country.”
Elizabeth grinned. “Will Mr Darcy show them to us himself, do you think, or will he arrange for one of the gamekeepers to give us a tour?”
Her aunt only laughed at her impertinent tone. “I have no doubt that Mr Darcy will be eager to show you all of Pemberley personally. The gamekeepers will be well occupied with their duties.”