Starting with her second summer at Barlow Hall, Mr. Barlow had gifted Elizabeth a trinket for her birthday, each one connected to a special memory she had made in Derbyshire. Thus far, she had a miniature of Barlow Hall, a silver harp and carved wooden horse.
“It’s perfect,” Elizabeth told him, turning the trinket over in her hand and examining it closely. “I love it. Thank you.” She moved to hug the gentleman once again. He rose and folded her into his arms.
“You are welcome, child.” The two took their seats. After a minute of contented silence where all three dug into their respective meals, Mr. Barlow said, “I have my eye on a gold-dipped paintbrush for next year.”
“You are incorrigible,” Elizabeth responded, snatching a muffin from his plate.
The trio were soon joined by Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. They both wished Elizabeth a happy birthday and presented her with letters from Longbourn. This too had become a Barlow Hall birthday tradition. The family ate and chatted amicably about their plans for the day before Elizabeth excused herself to read her letters.
Jane’s letters covered both sides of two sheets and were filled with a list of all the things she liked best about Lizzy and a brief update on their mother’s attempts at matchmaking. Kitty and Lydia shared a short joint missive wishing their sister a happy birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet also sent a joint letter, but it was written in the close hand of her father. It was not as brief as her younger sisters, but it was not nearly as long as Jane’s. It contained some news of Meryton and the neighbourhood—her mother’s contribution no doubt—and some complaints about how much her sense and conversation were missed—clearly from her father. It ended with the news that he had sent extra pocket money to Mr. Gardiner that she might purchase anything she wished in Lambton to celebrate her day.
Not long after Elizabeth had stowed her letters away, Mrs. Gardiner was admonishing her to begin preparations for the party. They would leave within the hour. Though the Gardiners assigned a maid to the girls during their summer, they were so much accustomed to helping one another get ready that by the time Polly appeared to assist them, both Mary and Elizabeth were already in the new dresses the Gardiners had gifted them for the occasion. The maid was quite adept at hair, however, and so her help was welcomed for that final stage of preparations. It was not until the family were ensconced in the Barlow carriage that Elizabeth began to wonder what one Fitzwilliam Darcy would think of her pale yellow dress and expertly arranged hair. She carried the whirr of anticipation with her for the entire journey.
Though the sun beat down on the landscape—unencumbered by clouds—the roads still remembered the previous day’s drenching. Generally, it was a well-maintained lane that offered a smooth journey between the houses. Thisafternoon, the wheels sank several inches into the mud and the carriage lurched periodically as it encountered holes created by yesterday’s driving rain. They were forced to stop twice to remove large branches that had been deposited onto their path. These obstacles did not lessen the enthusiasm of the party. They arrived in good spirits and ready to celebrate.
“Welcome.” Mr. Darcy greeted his guests with a broad smile as the ever-efficient Mrs. Reynolds ushered them into the entryway, where the family waited. The parties merged quickly, offering birthday wishes to Elizabeth and Georgiana. After wishing Elizabeth a happy birthday, Miss Baxter pulled Mary aside to ask after a piece of music the younger girl had been working on when last they spoke.
“I can see it,” Darcy said to Elizabeth.
“See what?” she asked, only slightly distracted by his signature almost smile that brightened his brown eyes.
“You have clearly grown into your fifteen years since we last met.”
“I am glad you noticed.” Elizabeth smiled up at him, and although she wished his words meant he was prepared to see her as a woman and not a girl, she was determined to be grown-up enough not to indulge herself in fantasy. As the best friend of his sister, she knew it likely he would always cast himself in the big brother role when it came to her. This truth seemed to hold less heartbreak in this moment than when she contemplated the matter outside of his presence.
“I think perhaps I have grown.”
Elizabeth stepped closer to Darcy, placed her hand atop her head and then moved it to where her head reached on him, though she did not bring it quite far enough to touch him.
“You can see I am now nearly the height of a Fitzwilliam Darcy shoulder.”
“Not quite, Miss Lizzy,” he countered, and her heart fluttered at his use of her nickname. It then took flight, bringing her entire stomach with it, when he took her hand in his and moved it down an inch. Even through their gloves, Elizabeth felt the heat of his fingers. “I believe you are closer to the height of a Fitzwilliam Darcy upper arm.”
“Quite so,” Elizabeth answered, her words a mere whisper. It was all she could manage. He still held her fingers in his!
“And I am nearly as tall as Lizzy!” Georgiana declared, breaking the spell as she bounded up to the pair. As she measured herself against Elizabeth, Darcy released her fingers, and though this made breathing and appearing normal so much easier, Elizabeth dearly missed the connection.
“Perhaps next year you will be the taller one,” Mr. Barlow speculated as he and the other adults approached the younger group.
“I think I may catch up to Lizzy first,” Mary said.
“That seems right, as you are almost there already,” Mr. Gardiner agreed.
It was true; standing side by side, Mary and Elizabeth were already nearly the same height.
“Let’s not rush the growing up, please,” Mr. Darcy said. “Shall we begin the picnic?”
“How can we picnic when the ground is still so wet, not to mention all the fallen branches—is there a place you found that is unaffected by yesterday’s storm?” Elizabeth asked.
“There is indeed,” Mr. Darcy answered with a mischievous grin. It was a becoming expression on the older gentleman that Lizzy had rarely witnessed. “If you would all follow me.”
And they did. Up the sweeping front staircase, turning right at the landing and proceeding down the wide hallway once they reached the top. Though she had been in this part of the house once or twice, it was more an exception during her visits, as this was the wing with the more formal rooms open to the public during some of the year. Georgiana had taken her on a tour one rainy day last summer, and she had been in awe of the dining room with a table set for thirty. Before she could ask why it was arranged as if ready for a party, the girls heard Mrs. Reynolds speaking with visitors in the hallway. They fled through a side door and nearly ran back to the family wing.
Elizabeth was surprised when Mr. Darcy halted the progress of the group outside the ornate double doors which she knew led to the ballroom. Mrs. Reynolds greeted them and then, at Mr. Darcy’s nod, opened the doors.
Much of the large room looked as it had last time she saw it: ornate gilded wall panels, three giant chandeliers glistening from the high ceilings, massive paintings of Pemberley in each season adorning the four walls and two enormous white marble fireplaces facing one another towards the far side of the space.
Elizabeth’s eyes were immediately drawn to the centre of the room. Directly under the largest chandelier, a half-dozen blankets were arrayed on the floor. Two were nearly covered with food laid out on silver trays—biscuits, meat pies, strawberries with cream, cakes, sandwiches, candies and more. The other blankets had pillows grouped on their corners. It was a delightful and picturesque display. It was all arranged under a large archway adorned with ribbons and flowers—in every shade of pink and purple.
