That was solely for her brother’s sake. But Elizabeth had privately told Darcy that she would wear the black armband and somber clothes until the morning when their first banns were said when they returned to Longbourn,and no longer.
While her clothes did not have the lace or grandeur that might be expected from the daughter of an earl, Elizabeth’s manner managed to be exactly what the servants wouldliketo see on meeting a close relation of the master for the first time—a mix of distance, kindness, and a promise to appreciate their excellent work.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Rose, had a teary look when introduced to Elizabeth, and she said, “My Lady, I do remember when you were just a small child. It is good that the Lord has brought you back to us. I remember you running about always with your mother.”
Elizabeth smiled authentically in reply. “We shall meet afterwards to talk about the past. I dearly wish to hear any stories you might remember of either me or my mother.”
As soon as they had proceeded into the house, Elizabeth clapped a hand over her mouth. “So strange,” she said staring about and turning around and around.
“My Lady,” Mrs. Rose said, clearly believing that Elizabeth’s request for stories had given her leave to say so much, “You liked to climb down those stairs, holding onto the banister.”
“I remember. And that portrait.” She studied the huge image of her grandfather, the second Earl of Rochester. “He rather terrified me—but the tour, show me all about.”
Rochester and Mrs. Rose led them up the stairs, and then along the great gallery with its line of many windows. They turned to look out the windows at the French gardens below, and out to the avenue and the woods beyond it. Darcy whispered to Elizabeth, “You are deeply affected. I can see that.”
“I thought I played the role so well!”
“You play the role very well, but I hope that we are on such intimate terms that I can tell the difference between you and the role you have chosen.”
“It is very much,” Elizabeth said. But then she looked up at him with that arch amused smile he had always loved. “I had not expected to need any comfort on this visit.”
Darcy smiled into her lovely eyes.
“Cease, cease. No.” Rochester came up to them. He wiped at his eyes but forced good humor. “I see that look between you. I know where it leads. Only when you are both married!”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and stepped over to Rochester, taking his arm. “What next shall we visit?”
After this the tour went easier than Darcy had expected, until such time as Mrs. Rose showed them a sitting room which was promised to have been the favorite of Elizabeth’s mother.
Upon entering the room Darcy did not immediately perceive anything to be wrong. There were many windows, and Darcy had turned to study the prospect that had once charmed Lady Rochester.
This room looked out over the opposite side of the house from the one they came up on, and below were more geometric gardens, but with a ha-ha and a grassy park in the English style behind it. A majestic deer strolled about on the lawn. A half-ruined faux temple stood dramatically atop a hill, and at this time of year all the trees were leafy and green.
Elizabeth did not look at the prospect. She stared at the middle of the floor, between a small table and a fine sofa in an older style.
“It was here.” Her finger shook. Her other hand gripped her locket.
“Jove,” Rochester exclaimed. “I’d forgotten. Lizzy, I swear I had not remembered.”
Darcy put his arm around Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, let us go.”
Elizabeth did not say anything, she just stared. Darcy pulled her towards the door, but she stayed stiff and staring.
“Oh.” Mrs. Rose clapped a hand over her mouth. “This was where the master beat you and the mistress. I remember the screams echoing down the halls. Half the staff left because they believed him to be a murderer.”
“Right there.” Elizabeth pointed. “There had been a fire screen set up, a Chinese mountain painting. And when he’d kicked Mama and I heard the crack, she’d knocked the screen over as she fell.”
“Papa had brought me here,” Rochester said quietly, now remembering himself. “He wanted me to watch. He said it would…it would give me more stomach. I sat in that very seat, sobbing. Papa slapped me for the tears before he left. Oh, God.”
Elizabeth wrenched her arm from Darcy’s grasp so that she could tear the mourning band from around her arm. She threw it to the floor, stomped on it, and then with her head stiffly held high, she hurried out of the room, then back down the gallery, down the stairs, and out into the gardens.
Darcy followed.
Elizabeth climbed into the first planter section and stomped around crushing a small section of the flowers with the fine leather travelling boots that she still wore.
“Elizabeth,” Darcy said after watching her for half a minute.
She seemed startled, as though she’d forgotten that he was there. Then she looked down at her feet. “Poor flowers.”
