“Lydia! That is uncharitable!”
“She is. Wickham always said so. He is only after her ten thousand pounds, I am sure.”
“Then I am sorry to hear it. What caused you to quarrel, dear?”
Tracing the pattern of the counterpane with her fingers, Lydia whispered, “He said I was cheap. And a real man would not see fit to waste his time on a girl like me.”
Tears flowed freely as she gathered Lydia in her arms and let her cry it out.
Father always said Lydia would never be easy till she exposed herself in some manner. How terrible to be humbled by such a man. Alas, there is hope for her yet.
* * *
And here I am again.Lizzy had been staring at the same page in her novel for she knew not how long as the Darcy carriage rolled through the small village.How is it that I, a nearly engaged woman, am sitting across from a man who is not my betrothed, but is instead the man who… the man who… the man who occupies all my dreams?Her cheeks burned from the visions she knew she should push from her mind.What has caused the Fates to conspire against me? Am I Prometheus, forever bound to misery, only to repeat myself until I have found some relief?
Lizzy shook the errant thought from her consciousness and returned to her book. Both Kitty and Georgiana were sleeping soundly across from one another: Kitty’s head against the rich panels of the box and Georgiana leaning against her brother. Lizzy peeked over her book at her companion to study his excellent features as he stared out the window to the bustling town. His shoulders looked strong, exuding confidence and respectability. His fingers drumming a tattoo along his long leg, drawing her eyes to his athletic build that was shown to great advantage by the cut of his traveling clothes.
“Miss Elizabeth, are you unwell? You look flushed.”
Covered in mortification at her own imaginings, she managed to say, “I must be warm.”
Mr. Darcy coughed, and she further felt herself blush upon seeing his breath in the crisp air. “I hope my sister’s insistence you travel with us was not an imposition. With the unexpected illness of Mrs. Annesley’s son, her continued presence in London was necessary and we welcome your gracious company.”
“I am honored to visit your Pemberley. When Georgie accompanies you on your wedding tour, I will be separated from my young friend, and we will miss her so.” He cleared his throat and she looked at him expectantly. When he did not respond, she continued. “I must own that I have been curious to see your home. I have heard such lovely accounts. I am eager to view it for myself.”
“I hope it meets with your approval.”
“I am certain, sir, it shall.” Closing her book, she looked out the window to the country side speeding past. “I did not realize Pemberley was such a great distance from London.”
He grinned. “That is one excuse I give for not attending many events during the season. ‘Estate business’ can be quite cumbersome.”
She gurgled at his unguarded statement. “Now, I can never trust a man again who claims ‘estate business’ as motivation to miss an event.”
His rich, baritone laugh startled Georgiana, who woke briefly then resettled herself against the carriage squabs. He leaned forward and whispered, “I assure you, Miss Elizabeth. I would never use that reasoning to excess.”
His playful grin and candor made her cover her mouth with both hands to stifle her amusement. After a moment and peace restored, she said, “Although your manner seems untroubled, I know you must be concerned for what we will find when we arrive.”
The turn in conversation did sober him, and he nodded weakly. “In this instant, I cannot take the word of my steward over my own eyes.”
“Do you truly believe the fire to be extensive?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I trust my man implicitly, but Pemberley is the air I breathe, just as Longbourn is to you. My father gave me stewardship for future generations of Darcys. Until I see Pemberley still stands, I cannot rest easy.” He flexed his hands, then clasped them together.
“And how much longer until we arrive?”
“Once we reach the crest of the summit, we will enter Pemberley Woods. Roughly one half hour.”
“And your steward said the main house was not damaged?”
“He wrote there was minimal damage to the main house. I am aware we lost a stable and a hot house.”
“I wish the Grecian Temple burned to the ground.” They both startled at Georgiana’s voice.
“Georgiana,” he said with an affected warning as Lizzy exclaimed, “A Grecian temple? That sounds exotic, sir.”
He smirked. “A month after my mother’s death, my aunt Catherine sent builders to erect a monument to my mother’s memory.”
“Not a welcome gesture?” Lizzy asked evenly.
