“I know, Papa. I know.” Tears clouded Elizabeth’s eyes. “I shall miss you more.”
“ThatI doubt.”
“I will miss you very, very much. Write many letters to me — no matter how you hate the practice. Dictate to a servant if you must — I will write many letters to you.”
“You must care for yourself. And keep your young man’s high ears pinned down. What is the purpose of a grand estate and a clever mind if not to be confounded often?”
Elizabeth squeezed Papa again. She closed her eyes as they stood embraced. She remembered Papa two decades ago in this room, his hair completely dark, and with the smile in his eyes as he asked her to sit on his lap and recite what she’d learned from the book she’d just perused. She remembered him reminiscing about university. Their enthusiasm when he purchased a particularly fine rare book.
Growing older. She sat in the chair as a vivacious young woman in a fine dress. His hair partly grey. How they talked before she left on trips to London, or to Charlotte, or to visit one of her married sisters. Every time, every single time Papa told her he would miss her until she returned.
She wouldn’t be returning. Not like before.
“How can I ever leave? So happy here.”
Papa patted her head. “I shall keep your chair exactly as you ordered it — do you recall? You were most insistent — and you shall discover in a few years how insistent a child of five can be — that your chair beexactlylike mine.”
Elizabeth giggled wetly.
“I had no choice except to obey, even though you could not fit in the chair. You curled up in it, with your feet on the seat. During winter you disappeared under a fuzzy blanket, only a pert nose sticking out.”
“Oh, Papa.”
“Those were my favorite days. I…”
Elizabeth laughed. “I thought your days at the university arguing with other young scholars were your favorite.”
“No…it was certainly after your birth. I loved those years, when you were old enough to cease crying to get your way — you had me wrapped round your finger. I fulfilled your everyreasonabledemand; at a certain age, you could be talked round to agree unreasonable ones need not be filled.”
“I was a good daughter?”
“Do not expect yourownchildren to be like that. I expect them to have something of the Darcy spirit and manners. I cannot imaginehimbeing talked out of a tantrum.”
“I know how, now.”
“And he knows how to put youintoa tantrum. High strung girl. I have loved you so.”
They sat together as they had for many years. Papa looked distant, sad. Elizabeth did not like to see it. “I wishhemoved to live with us, rather than I leaving to live with him. Another unfairness women must endure.”
“Have you asked Mr. Darcy ifhewould take up residence in Hertfordshire? Ideally in the guest room, but another building in the neighborhood might do almost as nicely. I hear High Court is vacant.”
“Youhave not seen Pemberley, if you can suggest such an exchange.”
Papa smiled and then he tapped his fingers on the desk and mumbled something to himself.
“What, dearest father, are you thinking?”
“I merely calculate the earliest date I might visit this vast estate and its remarkable library — I wrote letters, when it first became clear in what direction matters were headed, asking what my acquaintance knew about Mr. Darcy. I believe many believed I desired to learn about his library.”
“You did! Of course you did. You have always done what you must to care for me.”
“I have tried.”
“If you wish to live with us, you havemypermission. And so long as you do not bother us overmuch, I am quite sure I can convince Darcy not to object.”
“He has already invited me to have a bed dragged into the library so I might sleep in it.”
“The best man! Except you, for you are bothmybest men.”
