“Are you still interested in learning?” Mr. Darcy asked when they had seated themselves.
“I suppose I would be, but it is too late. Is it not?”
“Of course not,” Mr. Darcy replied with feeling. “One can learn at any time, and I have full confidence you could become proficient quite quickly.”
Elizabeth could not hide her enthusiasm at the prospect, but before she could respond, Mrs. Gardiner arrived. She greeted Lizzy and their guest. Mr. Darcy asked after Mr. Barlow and was told he was unwell. After he expressed his regret at this and his wishes for a speedy recovery, they all spent a few minutes talking of Mr. Barlow—remembering jests and kindnesses. Mr. Darcy offered tales of a young Mr. Barlow that intrigued Elizabeth. The stories made her at once happy and sad. Soon enough, refreshments were brought and the adults entered into a lively discussion about Mr. Darcy’s most recent travels to the continent.
After about a half hour, their guest expressed his apologies for not only arriving unannounced but also overstaying his welcome. The ladies assured him he could not possibly outstay his welcome. As they walked him to the door, Mr. Darcy returned to his previous discussion with Elizabeth.
“Mrs. Gardiner, if you and your husband would have no objection, I would like to teach Miss Elizabeth to ride. We could devise a schedule for her to visit Pemberley perhaps twice a week for lessons?”
“Mr. Darcy, that is extremely generous,” Mrs. Gardiner responded while Elizabeth stood beside her, feeling overwhelming excitement and just a little terror. The terror was not at the prospect of riding—that was all excitement—but being at Pemberley. At seeing HIM, possibly regularly. “I am sure Elizabeth would be delighted to learn but are you certain—it is not a small undertaking.”
“I am certain. Between myself, Miss Darcy, Miss Baxter, who is herself an accomplished rider, and Fitzwilliam, I know we can handle even Miss Elizabeth’s energy and enthusiasm. Itwould be a great favour to me as Miss Darcy would no doubt insist on regular meetings in any case, and now we have a purpose and a plan.”
“Well then, how can we refuse?” Mrs. Gardiner responded.
“Of course, I am told Miss Bennet can already ride, but she would of course be welcome as well,” Mr. Darcy told her.
“Oh, thank you, that is too kind, but I am afraid Jane did not join Lizzy this summer.”
After some discussion, the following morning was set for the first lesson, and Mrs. Gardiner assured Mr. Darcy she would be happy to send Lizzy in the carriage rather than have them fetch her. Elizabeth smiled and nodded through it all, suddenly consumed with a very grave question. As soon as the door closed behind their guest Lizzy turned to her aunt and asked, “What will I wear?!”
The carriage conveying Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Pemberley was ready at the appointed hour. Lizzy was ready quite in advance of that. Dressed in a riding habit excavated from the attics of Barlow Hall, she fairly bounced from the house. Her borrowed frock had belonged to Mrs. Gardiner when she was a girl. It therefore had the disadvantage of being many seasons out of fashion, but the advantage of being like new. Young Miss Madeline Barlow had not been much of a rider and quickly abandoned the stables for the gardens when she visited her cousin’s estate as a girl.
For the most part, as she journeyed towards this much-anticipated outing, Elizabeth was able to discipline herself tothink only of riding, Miss Darcy, the horses, the stables and Mr. Darcy (the elder). In short, anything but her Mr. Darcy. Of course she could not help but think of him thusly, as hers, in the privacy of her own mind. It was, after all, simply a way to distinguish between the two gentlemen in her thoughts. And even such simple thoughts of how she should think of him caused an intense fluttering in her belly and a flush of heat to her cheeks.
“I am to see Miss Darcy and Mr. Darcy. They will teach me to ride. That is exciting. I am excited only for this,” Elizabeth mumbled to herself. “I am excited and only for this. Only for the riding.” Elizabeth’s self-directed admonitions calmed her somewhat but did not succeed in distracting either her heart or mind from her Mr. Darcy. Turning to the window, she focused on the new sites before her.
She watched for the first appearance of Pemberley Wood with eager anticipation. When at length they turned in at the lodge, her spirits were in high flutter. The park was very large and contained a great variety of ground. They entered it at one of its lower points and drove for some time through a beautiful wood, stretching over a wide extent. She watched the trees and hills with avid interest.
The carriage gradually ascended for a half mile to the top of a hill where the wood ceased. Her eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road wound with some abruptness. It was a large, handsome stone building, standing on the rising ground. The house was backed by a ridge of high woody hills,and in front was a stream which Elizabeth imagined was the same one where she had met Miss Darcy. She was struck by the lack of artificial appearance. Pemberley’s banks were neither formal nor falselyadorned. It was delightful and she was enchanted, having never seen a place for which nature had done more or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste.
As they approached the house, Elizabeth was struck by not only its size but also its majesty. It was nearly a castle. She could not focus on this for long as her attention was soon drawn to the three figures standing on the steps. Taking a deep breath, she tried to compose herself. By the time the carriage had stopped, the stairs were placed and the door opened, she had not quite succeeded.
Mr. Darcy (the elder) was there to hand her down. Miss Darcy stood back, at the bottom of Pemberley’s large entrance doors, next to her brother, fairly bouncing in place. Elizabeth wondered if her arm had not been looped with his whether she might have darted forward.
In the brief moments it took for Mr. Darcy to lead her to his waiting children, Elizabeth took them both in.
It had only been a year, not quite that, and Miss Darcy had sprouted. Her face still retained the look of a girl, but one on the precipice of the next stage of her maturity. She was dressed in a becoming pink frock with a small amount of lace at the collar and white ribbons on the short sleeves. Matching ribbons could be seen in her golden hair, which was parted in the centre and fell down over her shoulders. It was shorter than it had been last summer, as well as more carefully coiffed. Her blue eyes were bright with curiosity and warmth. As she got closer, Elizabeth estimated that Miss Darcy and herself were now very nearly the same height.
Though she tried to prevent it, Elizabeth’s eyes turned next to her Mr. Darcy. He was tall, perhaps slightly taller than last summer. He watched her approach with deep brown eyes which seemed to smile at her even though he held his mouth in a firm line. The curly brown hair which had previously displayed a little wildness was tamed, it being so closely cropped she could barely perceive the curls she loved so well. His broad shoulders and long arms were displayed to utter perfection in a dark blue jacket over a crisp white shirt. He held his hands in front of him and was twisting what she assumed was his signet ring, the sun catching the gold as he turned it. Even up through the moment she stepped from the carriage, Elizabeth had been sure, had been assuring herself, that she had exaggerated his beauty, had misremembered his perfection, but one glance made clear her memories barely did him justice.
“Miss Elizabeth, welcome to Pemberley,” Mr. Darcy said as he led her over to where his children waited with wildly differing amounts of patience. After the girls curtseyed and her Mr. Darcy bowed, Miss Darcy came forward and took Elizabeth’s arm.
“I am so glad you have come,” she said. Her wide smile and tight grip on her friend supported this claim. “Father has said we may take some tea and cakes before setting off for the stables.”
“That would be lovely,” Elizabeth answered, overwhelmed by the enthusiastic greeting, the grandeur of her surroundings and the presence of her Mr. Darcy. The foursome walked into the house, Miss Darcy and Elizabeth followed by the Mr. Darcys. Two servants, who Elizabeth knew must be the housekeeper and butler, stood on either side of the large, ornate,wide-open doors. They bowed and curtseyed respectively as the party passed.
The inside of Pemberley charmed Elizabeth just as much as the outside had. The rooms they passed were grand and handsome, and although the furniture inside spoke to the fortune of the family, nothing was either gaudy or uselessly fine. When they reached a doorway into which Miss Darcy guided her, Elizabeth found even more to admire. The room itself was like those she had glimpsed—elegant and well-appointed, but it was the prospect from the large window that caught most of her attention.
She saw a river, trees scattered on its banks and the winding of the valley as far as she could trace it. In the distance, she perceived hills crowned with wood, rolling up and down as they made their way out of sight. Georgiana sat on the settee and indicated Elizabeth should join her. The pull of her new friend was just enough to make abandoning the view bearable.
“It is a delightful prospect,” she said as she sat.
“We are blessed with similar views from nearly every room,” Mr. Darcy told her. “The house was built to bend to nature rather than changing the natural landscape to suit it.”
“That is just what I thought,” Elizabeth responded with a smile. “Your ancestors were wise indeed.”
