“It is good to see you, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, helping her down the steps. “May I offer you my best wishes on your birthday.”
John Robertson was just as handsome and charming as she remembered. When the party stood by the phaeton, Elizabeth performed the introductions.
“Master Robertson, may I introduce my sister, Miss Bennet?” Turning to Jane, she took a calming breath before continuing. “Jane, this is Mr. John Robertson. His family farms a large piece of land on the Pemberley estate.”
Jane and John acknowledged the introduction and others were performed—Jane being introduced to the rest of the Robertsons. Without meaning to, Elizabeth watched for John’s reaction to her sister. Jane’s beauty was legendary for a reason, and today she looked particularly well. Her dark blonde hair was piled on her head and mostly hidden by her bonnet, but several strands had escaped during their ride and gently framed her face. Her light pink gown became her quite well and set off her bright blue eyes, which sparkled with interest and kindness as she met the Robertsons. John’s brother, Edmund, was nearly transfixed, and both Mr. and Mrs. Robertson stared at her just a bit longer than seemed appropriate. But John, after bowing over Jane’s hand during the introduction, barely spared her a glance before turning to Elizabeth and offering his arm. She took it with a strong feeling of appreciation for the young man and a mix of other emotions she chose not to examine.
As the Pemberley staff laid out the picnic fare on tables set up in the gazebo. Which was surrounded by blankets. The younger people sat on the blankets and lounged against the pillows as they ate, while the Gardiners, Mr. Barlow and Mr. and Mrs. Robertson chose to sit in the comfortable wicker chairs arrayed by the tables. Elizabeth listened eagerly as John, who had taken a seat by her side, talked about his curacy and the village he served several hours away. A few minutes after Jane joined the conversation, Elizabeth excused herself to fetch another chocolate mousse.
“I would be happy to procure you your treat, Miss Elizabeth,” John said with a mix of eagerness and humour.
“Please do not trouble yourself. I find that I need to stretch my legs anyway and may walk about a bit before I return. Thank you.” Elizabeth took a glass of her favourite treat off the table, briefly conversing with those gathered about, and then walked to the edge of the clearing.
The lake was so still and calm it reflected the trees and bushes around its edges as clearly as a mirror. The pinks and whites glimmered sharply on its surface; the greens and browns blended in with the blue and grey of the water. Without really meaning to, Elizabeth, as she walked along the shoreline, made her way to the lilac grove. When she came to its edge, she was happy with her unintended destination. It was late in the season, but the blooms were still vibrant.
Placing her cup on a nearby stone, Elizabeth went from bush to bush, gently cupping the lilacs and bending some to take in the fragrance. She laughed happily as she made her way around the small enclosure. Some of the bushes had grown quite tall, and she was delighted at how many flowers each seemedto hold and at having to stand on her tiptoes to reach all their blossoms. Just as she was considering whether to pick some, a voice spoke from behind her. She dropped the branch she had been holding and stumbled slightly in surprise.
“I am sorry to interrupt your enjoyment. I did not mean to frighten you. I assure you I am no bandit. If we return to the party, we can find someone to make the introductions. I am . . . ” He paused here as Elizabeth had now turned around. As she drank her fill of Mr. Darcy for the first time in almost three years, he struggled to explain himself.
“Miss Elizabeth,” the beloved voice sputtered in evident surprise. “I did not know . . . I did not recognise . . .” Pausing to stare, he cocked his head to one side in evident contemplation and concentration, and he finally completed a sentence. “You have grown.”
He sounded quite put out at this observation, and Elizabeth, filled with a myriad of emotions—from joy to confusion to surprise and back again—could not help but laugh.
“I suppose I have, Mr. Darcy. It is good to see you.”
They stood regarding each other for another moment before Mr. Darcy seemed to recollect himself.
“Miss Elizabeth, it is good to see you as well. I apologise for my confusion just now. It is only that . . .” When he paused and seemed unable to find the words again, Elizabeth spoke.
“Only that I am grown and you did not expect that after two and a half years I would be somewhat altered?”
“No, of course, it is logical,” he began in a tone more like his usual combination of formality and directness. “It is only that you look . . . that is to say, you . . .”
The sweetness of having him fumbling for words around her for once eliminated any vestiges of nervousness. “I am not certain which concerns me more—your inability to recognise someone you have known these many years or that my looks have deteriorated so much as to leave you, the eloquent Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, at a loss for words. Shall I seek out a veil at the Milner when I am next in Lambton to ensure you are not frightened into speechlessness ever again at the sight of me or do I need to procure glasses for you?” She said, laughing.
“I should have recognised that laugh,” he said quietly, mostly to himself before answering in a surer tone, “You know me well enough to know that if I found your looks wanting, I would never broach the topic at all. I assure you I am in no danger of being frightened by you. It is true your appearance is . . . changed, and that is why, when your back was turned, I did not recognise you, but now, as you stand before me, of course I see that you are Miss Elizabeth, my friend. No glasses or veil are required.”
It was good that Elizabeth had appreciated having the upper hand for the moment it was hers because it now shifted, decidedly, back to the man in front of her. What was she to say to that? She had many questions that could not be voiced, even if her myriad of emotions would have allowed her to form them. Fortunately, no response was required, as in that moment, Georgiana’s voice could be heard just beyond the bushes.
“Lizzy?”
“Have you not yet made yourself known to the rest of the party?” Elizabeth asked Mr. Darcy.
“No.” He seemed uncertain again. “After I dismounted, I saw movement in the grove and, thinking it might be you, decided I would surprise you first.”
This simple explanation endangered Elizabeth’s equilibrium a great deal—perhaps because it was being put on an already full scale, which threatened to topple her.
“It is a lovely surprise, and now your sister will be made quite happy at your appearance as well.”
“Indeed,” he said quietly and seemed to take a long moment before turning away from her and calling out so Georgiana could hear. “Your friend is here, and so is your brother.”
Just then, Georgiana appeared at the opening of the grove. Her eyes first connected with Elizabeth’s before turning and seeing her brother.
“William!” She threw herself into his arms, and he caught her with a huff and a laugh. “You came in time.”
“I would not miss the first event you have hosted as mistress of Pemberley nor your birthday.”
“Are the Bingleys with you?” she asked when he placed her back on her feet.
