“Will you not exhibit your work for us?” Mr. Darcy asked, a glint of mischief in his eye.
“Yes, Lizzy, we would like to see,” Mary insisted, and Georgiana agreed.
Though the easels were set up only twenty feet from them, across the small lane, Elizabeth had angled hers to face not the road but the lake. She was not exactly embarrassed by her very poor attempt but nor was she eager to watch everyone examine it and try to find something complimentary to say. Before the other ladies could make the small journey to see it for themselves, Darcy came to her rescue.
“It seems there will be plenty of time to see all three works once they are properly dried. James will come back later today, and the next time you ladies are together, you can mount your own exhibition.”
While Mary and Georgiana assented to this plan Lizzy looked to Darcy with a smile of gratitude. He nodded at her before offering his sister his hand to assist her into the carriage. The ride back to Pemberley was spent in companionable silence. The time spent in the sun, combined with the gentle sway of the carriage, had affected the youngest members of the party.
Elizabeth watched Georgiana’s lids slowly close. Her head bobbed forwards a little before Mr. Darcy gently pulled her to him. Her head then dropped onto her brother’s shoulder. It was not a minute before Elizabeth felt a weight on her own shoulder and heard the familiar soft wheezing of Mary at rest. They had been on the road but five minutes. Looking over at Darcy, they shared a smile. In that moment, she felt less of the frenzy and agitation his presence usually caused. He was an older brother and she an older sister, sharing in their affection for their siblings.
The peaceful connection she felt was shattered a few minutes later when he laughed at the increasingly discordant noises their sisters were making in their sleep—it sounded almost coordinated. Though she had become accustomed to his small smiles and clever teasing over the past few summers, his laughter—which she had only heard once before—was not something she was prepared for. It was at once deep and soft, and when she looked up at him upon hearing it, the accompanying smile and brightness in his eyes were almost her undoing.
A rainstorm threatened the now annual birthday picnic. The day before the planned event dawned dark with ominous clouds dotting the horizon. The storm began mid-morning and continued all day, bringing driving rain, flashes or lightning and booming thunder. Elizabeth and Mary tried to stay busy—reading and drawing, respectively. But by late afternoon, they were standing side by side at the floor-to-ceiling window in the front drawing room. They watched the rain turn garden paths into shallow streams and witnessed its force drive small branches to the ground. Though normally one to enjoy a rainy day and the opportunity to cozy up with a book alone or a game with her family, Elizabeth was despondent about what it meant for the picnic.
“Now it is certain,” she said, flinging the heavy curtain against the window as thunder nearly shook the house.
“Certain?” Mary asked.
“I thought if it was just a quick storm that moved on by the afternoon, there might be time for the roads and the field where we picnic to dry, but now I believe we must acknowledge that we will not be able to do it.”
“I am disappointed, but might we not postpone for a few days and hold it once the conditions are improved?” Mary asked.
“I suppose it is possible, but remember the Darcys are travelling to visit relatives in Scotland in a sennight. I imagine that it would be difficult to find another time that did not conflict with the obligations incumbent upon them before leaving Derbyshire for the rest of the season.”
“I had not thought of that,” Mary admitted. “Well, we can have a wonderful celebration indoors, can we not?”
“We certainly can,” Mrs. Gardiner declared as she swept into the room, holding a folded paper aloft. “It seems the Darcys have a plan to salvage the celebration tomorrow.”
“What plan?” Elizabeth asked.
“They would like to keep it a surprise, but I am told we are to arrive as planned at ten tomorrow morning.”
“This rain is some of the worst I have seen,” Mary observed. “Will the roads be passable?”
“Oh, certainly,” their aunt replied. “Though the rain looks to be here to stay for today as long as we have a respite overnight, the carriage should have no difficulty in the morning.”
The next morning both the absence of the pitter-patter of rain pelting her windows and the sliver of light slipping through her curtains told Elizabeth her birthday plans could proceed. She had harboured some small worry that the downpour would continue and prevent any kind of journey to Pemberley. The Darcys’ impending departure meant that she might not seeher friends again until next summer. But now, as she sprang from her bed and drew back the windowpane to confirm her suspicions, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief.
The sun was shining in a cloudless sky, its light turning the water that remained on the fields pooled in puddles and in droplets still clinging to the grass into crystal-like reflectors. The family all emerged from their rooms full of energy, eager for the novelty of the celebration that awaited them.
Elizabeth was delighted to find Mr. Barlow at the breakfast table when she and Mary arrived.
“Good morning, ladies.” He stood to greet them. “And before the festivities are underway and I am forgotten in all the hubbub, allow me to wish you a happy birthday and present you with my gift.” With a flourish, the elderly gentleman removed a small box from his jacket pocket. Elizabeth moved to embrace him.
“Mr. Barlow, you are too kind,” she said as her head rested on his shoulder. “You being here is gift enough.”
“Because I am so ancient that each day I remain above ground must be considered as a special provision from the Lord above?”
Mary gasped slightly, but Elizabeth laughed and agreed with his assessment. “That’s it exactly.”
“I suppose I cannot take it back now.”
“You could try,” she offered cheerfully as she sat beside him with the box in her hands. “Shall I open it?”
He nodded and Elizabeth removed the top. Inside, resting on a neatly folded pink handkerchief, was a small silver cat which bore a striking resemblance to Mr. Whiskers.
“I thought it would make a good addition to your collection,” Mr. Barlow told her as he put the plate he had just filled in front of her and moved to fix another for Mary.
