Page 60 of The Talented Daughters of Longbourn

“Thank you, Lizzy,” Jane murmured, taking a sip of cold lemonade and then setting it on a wooden side table near the bed. “Do not feel you must linger here; I expect that I will sleep for at least two hours.”

Elizabeth cast a longing glance toward the window, which was covered in nearly-opaque shades so that she could only see light dimly filtering through it. “Are you quite certain?”

“Of course I am; indeed, I will find it difficult to sleep with you hovering over me. You should take a walk inside or outside the house, or perhaps prowl around in search of the library. Charles says it is most remarkable.”

“Caroline Bingley said the very same,” Elizabeth said with a roll of her eyes, “so it must be true.”

Jane chuckled and lay back against her pillows. “I do thank you for being civil to Caroline, even when it is difficult.”

“I am afraid I am often satirical when we speak together, though I am not certain she understands that.”

“I am certain she does not,” Jane murmured, closing her eyes. “You are being subtle, far more than Father ever is, and she does not realize when you are poking fun at her.”

“That is probably for the best, as I don’t wish to be too unkind to her,” Elizabeth responded as she leaned over to kiss her sister on the forehead.

She stepped back and regarded Jane’s face for a moment, then relaxed and turned to leave the room.

Poor Jane had been feeling very sickly most mornings, and hours in carriages, even well sprung ones, were hard on her.

She was thankful they were at Pemberley, where Jane would no longer be jolted over good and bad roads.

She stepped out of the bedroom and shut it behind her.

Jane relaxed as the sound of her sister’s footfalls faded.

She groaned and curled up in a ball, attempting to find a comfortable position.

She was overjoyed that she had already conceived a child with her beloved Charles, but she felt truly terrible much of the time, not just physically, but in her emotional state as well.

She was used to being a calm, collected woman, but now she grew frustrated easily and often fought tears over foolish things.

/

Elizabeth walked down the corridor a few yards and then entered her own room, which was adjacent to but not connected with Jane’s bedchamber.

That privilege was, of course, set aside for Charles Bingley.

The guest quarters at Pemberley were as impressive as everything else, and thus Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were sharing a suite composed of two large bedchambers connected by a pleasant sitting room.

Since Elizabeth knew that the Bingleys spent many nights together in the same bed, this was an ideal situation.

For at least the hundredth time, Elizabeth thanked God for Jane’s marriage; her sister was a charming, sweet gentlewoman, but she was also inclined to look for the best in everyone.

Elizabeth, with a far more pessimistic view of mankind, had worried that Jane, whose beauty was truly remarkable, would fall in love and marry a man whose sole interest was in Jane’s physical perfection.

Instead, Charles Bingley had leased Netherfield Hall, and fallen in love with Jane, and she with him, and now they were happily married.

Elizabeth was less enamored with her new sisters by marriage, though Louisa Hurst had proven a far more amiable companion these last months.

Caroline, on the other hand, had tried her hardest to keep Charles from wedding the eldest Miss Bennet.

Now that Jane was the new Mrs. Bingley, Miss Bingley retained a veneer of courtesy around Jane and her family of birth, but often made subtle comments about their lack of education, their lack of fortune, and their lack of connections.

It said a great deal that even Jane, who desired to see good in everyone, no longer thought highly of her new unmarried sister.

Elizabeth opened the door to her own chamber and sighed with pleasure as she entered the room, which was fitted up in greens and whites, with a charming seascape dominating the wall surrounding the unlit fireplace.

Elizabeth had never seen the ocean, but she hoped it was as marvelous as the painting depicted with its white capped aqua waves and tiny painted figures.

The door opened behind her, and she turned as a young maid entered, her arms full of towels, and promptly squeaked in surprise. “Oh, I apologize, Miss Bennet. I did not mean to intrude!”

“Not at all,” Elizabeth returned with a welcoming smile. “In fact, I have a question for you. I would like to stretch my legs outside, but naturally I do not wish to interfere with the smooth operation of the estate. Is there a garden where I could walk, perhaps?”

“Oh yes, Miss!” the maid replied eagerly. “If you will wait a few minutes while I finish my duties, I will guide you to the nearby door which leads to the rose garden. It is lovely!”

/

“It is just through that door, Miss,” the servant said, pointing at a wooden door at the end of the corridor.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. She walked down the corridor, opened the door, which was decorated with carved rose blossoms, and stepped out onto a paved walkway.

She found herself alone in a large sunken garden, which was located along the south side of the guest wing of Pemberley.

She pulled in a deep breath of clean air and felt her body relax with pleasure.

She had enjoyed the trip north, with all its sights and sounds, but her current locale was both interesting and beautiful, and she looked forward to a time of relaxation.

She began wandering along the paved path, which twisted and turned its way through a variety of rose beds, some filled with bushes, others with trellises where roses had been trained to climb above her head.

She had never seen such a profusion of rose blossoms, some red, some pink, some yellow, some white, some a mix of colors.

The sizes varied as well, and the shapes, and the combined scent of so many blossoms was a true delight.

Her mother, who loved roses, would be cooing with wonder at the very sight of this garden.

There were definitely advantages to being very wealthy.

This little piece of heaven must require the services of numerous gardeners!

After walking slowly for ten minutes, she crossed a small wooden bridge which was thrown across a tiny brook that wended its way from east to west in the garden.

Elizabeth guessed that the water had been diverted from a large stream elsewhere.

Pemberley seemed to be well watered, which was another point in its favor.

It was, perhaps, not so surprising that Mr. Darcy was such a proud man.

He was the extremely wealthy master of one of the largest, finest estates in all of Britain. Perhaps he had a right to be proud.

She paused to sniff a large yellow rose on a trellis, whose head was bobbing happily in the slight breeze, just as a strange sound emanated from beyond the wooden lattice.

She straightened, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

It was something between a trill, a warble, a hoot, and a squawk.

What man or woman or child or animal could make such a noise?

She walked a few more feet and rounded the trellis, looking toward the source of the strange sound.

A stone wall, at least ten feet high, loomed some distance away, a wall without a roof.

It seemed that Pemberley, in addition to everything else, could boast of a walled garden.

A paved path led from the rose garden, across a patch of well-trimmed grass, to a door in the wall.

A moment later, the same cry came again, obviously from within the walled area.

Elizabeth started walking toward the door in a mixture of curiosity and concern.

It seemed unlikely that a person could make such a noise, but suppose someone was injured within the walled plot?

There were no servants in sight; surely it would do no harm to take a quick peek within?

Now that she was nearer the door, she could hear additional hoots and whistles. It seemed likely that there was an animal or animals within making the noise, but what animal?

She reached out to the knob of the door, hesitated briefly, opened it, and stepped within.

I hope you enjoyed this excerpt from Peacocks of Pemberley !