Page 9 of The Shades of Pemberley

T ravel had never been an easy undertaking, and that journey to Pemberley brought the maxim to deeper understanding in Darcy’s mind.

Netherfield was no more than a four-hour journey north of London; even if he did not enjoy it, the comforts provided by an excellent carriage, not making up for the limited confines in which a man long of leg could not stretch to his full height, at least the distance did not render it interminable.

That long journey told Darcy that the short distance to the home he had known all his life did not even begin to prepare him for what he would endure every time he traveled from London to the seat of Darcy wealth in the north, which consumed three full days.

It was not the first time he had traveled such a distance, for he had visited the north more than once in Bingley’s company, and had toured many locations during his youth, a replacement of sorts for the inability to travel the continent on a grand tour, as his father had when he had been a young man.

The prospect of his future need to travel these roads at least twice a year rendered the reality more pressing than he had ever thought possible.

Now that those three days were almost complete, Darcy regarded the massive edifice of the home he could now call his own, knowing that if anything, his father had understated the grandeur of the place.

Simply put, Pemberley was majestic, a massive monument to the history of the Darcy family.

Netherfield, fine estate though it was, could not even begin to compare with what he saw before him.

The house was such a structure as to dwarf Netherfield, a testament to the Darcy family’s longevity and the wealth they had accumulated.

After all, Netherfield produced an income of about five thousand a year, whereas Pemberley’s was perhaps twice that much, according to rumor.

Yet if the house itself were even an inch less than four times as large as Netherfield, Darcy would eat his hat.

The order of the estate as he passed through the lodge at its gate and made his way through the fields and woods also impressed Darcy.

After traveling for as much as ten minutes through those woods, Darcy wondered if he would even reach the house before darkness fell over the land.

It was January, and there was nothing to see in the fields, but they all appeared well-maintained and ready for planting when the spring grew warm enough to allow it.

In every line, every bush, every tree, and every block of pale gray stone that comprised the house’s walls, Darcy knew he had entered a far different world from that to which he was accustomed.

As the carriage continued to roll along toward the house, Darcy considered the last three days of journeying, the inns at which he had stopped for the night, and the roads he had traveled.

The countryside, as he had known it would, had gradually grown rougher than the gentle lands to the south, the soil a little less fertile, the fields more likely to contain rocks rather than rich loam suitable for growing crops.

While such thoughts teased at the edges of his consciousness, Darcy’s recollections returned to the leave-taking from his home two days before.

Leaving Elizabeth had been hard, but he had also not wished to give up his mother’s or his close friend’s company so soon, though he had known it was necessary.

To hold to a little of the normalcy of his comfortable life, he had even tried to convince Bingley to accompany him to Pemberley.

“You have my apologies, Bingley, for the necessity of leaving. I had hoped to keep your company until my wedding to Elizabeth.”

Bingley, good fellow that he was, had seen the humor in that comment at once. “Then you would have given up my company for that of your enchanting new wife!”

“For that, I offer no apology. I am besotted, and I do not hesitate to own it. Who would not be besotted with such a woman as she?”

“Who, indeed?” Bingley shook his head and allowed a rueful smile. “It is unfortunate, my friend, for I could not but anticipate deepening my acquaintance with your wife’s beguiling sister. Now, however, I must wait until you return to renew my connection with her.”

“I will be certain to invite you to return the moment I make my way back to Hertfordshire. Or perhaps we may meet in London for the season, my first as a married man.”

Bingley grinned and slapped Darcy’s back. “That sounds like an excellent plan, Darcy. I shall wait to hear from you.”

Though Darcy nodded to his friend, his thoughts had taken another turn, such that he blurted his next comment without thinking of what it meant.

“If you wish, I should appreciate your support at Pemberley.”

Sobered at once, Bingley regarded him. “That is kind of you, Darcy, and you know I would be happy to offer my support. Yet I cannot think it is at all advisable, since you will go into a house of mourning and a situation unfamiliar to you. I would not wish to give your relations the wrong impression.”

With a sigh, Darcy offered his friend a rueful smile. “You are correct, of course, Bingley. It is not that I did not understand this, but the notion of having a friend’s support is not at all unwelcome.”

“Trust me, Darcy, I understand very well. I hope you will remember this sentiment when I settle on an estate to lease or purchase, for when that day arrives, I hope I can count on your patronage.”

“Of course, Bingley. You need only ask, and I shall be happy to assist.”

“Thank you, Darcy. I shall hold you to that promise.”

“What will you do in the interim while I am away in the north?”

Bingley shrugged. “For the moment, my destination will be London, for that is where Louisa and Caroline are at present. As Caroline rarely wishes to travel to York to visit family and will not countenance missing even a second of the season, I cannot imagine we will leave London.”

A pause ensued in which Bingley regarded him, uncertainty written on his brow. Darcy refrained from asking after his thoughts, knowing that Bingley would come to the point in his own time, which proved to be only a moment later.

“What should I say when my sisters ask after my untimely return? I am aware you prefer to avoid having your business discussed in every sitting-room in London, but it would be better if I had something to tell them, rather than not saying anything.”

This had the potential, Darcy knew, to set Miss Bingley on an even more determined path to capture his attention despite his acknowledged engagement.

It was a facet of her character to covet whatever she could obtain, and to that point she had cast her net hoping to snare a larger fish—yet she had not ignored him, as he was the highest positioned gentleman of her acquaintance.

Now that Darcy was to inherit Pemberley with all its attendant advantages, he knew this would focus her attention on him, making her behavior all that much worse.

Yet Bingley was also correct. If he said nothing, that would allow them to speculate about the reason for their brother’s return, which could be dangerous to his reputation, to say nothing of Bingley’s.

“I suppose the news will soon be known throughout London,” mused Darcy as he considered Bingley’s question. “It cannot be hidden for long, and the fact of my inheritance will not be far behind.”

“Then, I may speak of the reason you are traveling to the north?”

“That is acceptable. Perhaps it would be best to leave out the information regarding my inheritance—say only that I was called to the north because of my cousin’s sudden passing, and leave it at that.

The truth will become known before long, but there is no need to spread gossip before it becomes necessary. ”

Bingley did not even bat an eyelash at the notion that his sisters would be prominent voices spreading such talk.

“Very well, I shall inform them of that much myself and declaim any further knowledge. When the truth comes out, I will say only that you requested my silence on the subject, and I obliged.”

“Thank you, Bingley,” said Darcy, grasping his friend’s hand. “You are an excellent friend.”

A short time later, two carriages departed from Netherfield, one to the south, through Meryton to the road to Watford, and from thence to London, while the second turned to the north.

While the most direct route from Netherfield lay to the north and Stevenage, to rejoin the Great North Road beyond Luton, Darcy directed his driver to a small path leading more northwest, knowing there was a stretch of road that led near to Longbourn’s borders.

If Darcy knew his betrothed at all, she would be waiting there when he passed by, even though the hour was early.

When the carriage rounded a bend in the narrow track, it gratified him to see that he was correct in his supposition.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” said Darcy as he descended from the carriage; the driver not even needing his request to stop the coach. “It appreciate this evidence of the similarity of our thoughts.”

The woman who had been a regular visitor in his dreams for as long as he could remember favored him with an impish smile. “To divine your turn of thought was the work of a moment, for you are predictable, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

Darcy leaned his forehead against hers. “If you mean I am entirely in your power, you are correct. I must go to the north to deal with the situation that has arisen, but I am dreading our time apart.”

Elizabeth sighed and raised her hands to his lapels. “Please, William, promise that you will return as soon as may be. I do not know that I can withstand a separation of several months, not when I had thought to be your wife in less than two weeks.”