Their carriage rolled through the gates of Matlock, Elizabeth pushed aside these concerns to focus on the journey’s end.
The experience of travelling with Lady Matlock had proven most enlightening. Away from her own family’s concerns and Darcy’s estate responsibilities, Elizabeth observed a different side of her husband. Though he maintained proper formality with Lady Matlock—she remained his superior in station despite his elevation to gentleman after all—their conversation held the ease of long acquaintance. Years of familiarity had worn away the sharp edges of social hierarchy.
Lady Matlock herself proved a delightful surprise. Unlike Elizabeth’s mother, who remained perpetually anxious about social standing and appearances, the Countess displayed no such concerns. Well-dressed and articulate without ostentation, she possessed a warmth that made Elizabeth feel almost immediately at ease.
“I confess myself eager to see you back in Derbyshire,” Lady Matlock observed as familiar countryside rolled past their windows. “You always seem more yourself here than anywhere else, Fitzwilliam.”
“The northern counties suit me best,” Darcy agreed. “Though I hope Elizabeth will find them equally agreeable.”
“How could she not? Wait until you see Pemberley. You must take her there whilst you’re visiting.”
Georgiana leaned forward with excitement. “The lake changes colour with the light—it so spectacular.”
“I should very much like to see where you spent your youth,” Elizabeth said to Darcy.
The carriage drew to a halt before Matlock’s imposing facade. Upon arrival, the arrangements reflected the complex nature of their party. Elizabeth and Darcy would lodge with Mr Wickham at his cottage, whilst Georgiana took her customary place in the servants’ quarters. Lady Matlock naturally occupied her family seat.
Though the Earl and Countess had graciously offered accommodations in the main house, Elizabeth understood Darcy’s desire to stay with the man who had been father to him in all but blood.
They parted from Lady Matlock with promises to take dinner at Matlock Hall the following day, then were conveyed by carriage to the cottage where Mr Wickham resided.
As they travelled through the estate grounds, Darcy turned to her with obvious unease.
“I must ask a favour regarding our visit with Mr Wickham. He remains unaware of his son’s presence at Netherfield and naturally knows nothing of the circumstances surrounding our marriage.”
Elizabeth studied his profile, noting the tension in his jaw. “You wish me to avoid mentioning George Wickham entirely.”
“If possible, yes. The knowledge would distress him greatly, particularly given his declining health. I will explain the circumstances of our marriage in a way that will not vex him too much.”
Something flickered in Darcy’s eyes as he spoke—an emotion Elizabeth could not quite identify. She nodded her agreement. After all, other than George Wickham being rudeand presumptuous, she had no prove he had done anything besides it.
The cottage proved charming in its modest proportions, surrounded by well-tended gardens now dormant for winter. Mr Wickham emerged to greet them before their carriage had fully stopped, his face alight with joy despite the obvious frailty of his movements.
“Fitzwilliam! My dear boy!”
His embrace of Darcy was warm and prolonged, a father’s greeting for a beloved son. When he turned to Elizabeth, his eyes sparkled with genuine delight.
“And this must be the remarkable Lady Elizabeth who has captured our boy’s heart.”
“Please, just Elizabeth. We are family now, after all.”
The resemblance to his son struck her immediately—the same bushy eyebrows, blue eyes, though these held none of George’s calculating coldness. Where the younger Wickham possessed practised charm, the elder radiated authentic kindness.
Inside, Mr Wickham had prepared a simple luncheon with obvious care, though Elizabeth noticed how his hands trembled as he served them. His partial blindness made navigation difficult, yet he refused all offers of assistance with gentle stubbornness.
“Now then, I suspect a whirlwind romance? Fitzwilliam has been sparse with the details.”
Elizabeth felt Darcy’s eyes upon her and remembered her promise. “It was rather sudden. A stranger attempted tocompromise Lady Elizabeth’s reputation, and I was forced to intercede, inadvertently making me the object of gossip.”
Mr Wickham’s expression grew thoughtful, almost sad. “I had rather hoped for a tale of true love at first sight—though all the best romances begin somewhere, do they not?”
The looked passing Elizabeth and Darcy carried weight neither could acknowledge aloud. Elizabeth saw Darcy colour up and knew by the temperature of her cheeks that they too were red.
“I plan to take Elizabeth hunting whilst we are here,” Darcy said, seeking safer ground.
“A lady who hunts! That is something I have not heard of. Would not catch many a lady doing that!”
Elizabeth smiled. “There are many things I wish to learn. Mr Darcy has already taught me fishing.” She recounted her tale of catching the large trout, which amused Mr Wickham immensely.
