As they walked arm in arm, Elizabeth asked, “Mr. Darcy, what is our destination today?”
“We travel twenty-four miles and will take lodgings in Dunstable,” he replied.
Georgiana brightened. “Was it not at Dunstable that King Henry had his marriage to Catherine of Aragon annulled? May we see it, Fitzwilliam?”
“You mean the old priory, my dear?” Darcy said. “It was torn down ages ago, mid-fifteenth century, I believe. Only part of the church was left standing after Henry dissolved the monasteries. There isn’t much to see now, but the site is famous since it is where Henry broke with Rome.”
He looked around at the others. “The Five Knolls are nearby, too; those ancient burial mounds have existed since before the Saxons.”
Richard added, “And the shutter telegraph station is up there as well. The Navy uses it to send messages to their ships.”
It was agreed that they would visit both sites. They would drive to Dunstable Downs upon arrival, and view the priory the next morning.
By the fourth day of travel, when the Darcy party reached Pemberley, Elizabeth found herself much at ease in her husband’s company and often forgot her early reserve in his presence.
They had been traveling about an hour on the final day of their journey when Darcy halted the carriage and stepped down. “Elizabeth, we are now entering our lands. If you look closely, you may see red and fallow deer moving through the woods. We will reach Pemberley soon.” She watched him mount his horseand felt a thrill that he was her husband. Her eyes followed him until he rode ahead, and she could no longer see him. She soon realized that the park was very large and contained a great variety of ground. They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a beautiful wood stretching over a wide extent. She took in every detail of the countryside as they approached. The carriage ascended gradually through the trees for nearly half a mile before the wood opened to reveal a sweeping valley below. Mr. Darcy called the carriage to a halt so they might disembark. He handed Elizabeth down.
“Mrs. Darcy,” he said quietly, “I wish to show you your new home.”
He led her to a small clearing, and there, upon a gentle rise, stood Pemberley House, its graceful stone front reflected in the stream that curved through the grounds. The water followed its natural course; its banks were covered by wild growth rather than trimmed to order.
Elizabeth was silent, her gaze fixed upon the house. She had never seen a place where nature’s beauty was so perfectly preserved, nor one that spoke so clearly of taste and restraint. The others exclaimed in admiration, but she could not speak, moved by a feeling she could not name. In that moment, she began to understand what it meant to be mistress of Pemberley, and how much her husband had entrusted to her.
Her face grew grave. Darcy noticed the change in her expression and moved nearer. “What is it, Elizabeth?”
She bent her head and looked down at her clasped hands. “Sir, you have been very generous in taking me for your wife. I do not deserve such honor, nor such a home as this.”
He rested his chin lightly upon her head, her curls brushing his cheek. “Elizabeth, let me be the judge of who deserves to be my wife and mistress of my home.” He took her hand in his. “Would you like to walk to the house, or shall I hand you back into the carriage?”
She looked out at the scene before her; it seemed to beckon. “I wish to walk in the meadow. I have never seen wildflowers growing in such abundance. Is there a path that runs near the stream?”
He turned to the others. “Mrs. Darcy will walk to the house. Any who wish to join us are welcome.” He looked to his footman. “Peter, take Rowan to the stables.”
Peter and Richard rode on ahead. Jane chose to return to the carriage, while Georgiana and Mary ran down the path. “Come, Mary,” Georgiana called. “Let me show you my tree house. Fitzwilliam had it built for me when I was ten.”
They ran along the path beside the stream. Darcy looked down at his wife. “Do you like it, Elizabeth?”
She nodded. “Very much, sir. I could never have imagined that I, the second daughter of a modest country squire, would become mistress of such a home. How the world must have changed for that to be possible.”
He thought to himself.And how has the world changedso muchthat I, Fitzwilliam Darcy, should have the great good fortune as to have this lovely woman at my side?
When the newlyweds reached the front entrance of the great stone house, the housekeeper, butler, and the servants stood in readiness to receive their master and his new wife. Darcy introduced Elizabeth and her sisters to Mrs. Reynolds, thehousekeeper, and to Walters, the butler. Then Elizabeth greeted the servants who stood in two lines as they entered the house. Her sisters were shown to their rooms by attendants, but Darcy himself escorted his wife to hers.
He entered with her and stood quietly while she surveyed the large bedchamber. Then he led her to a door that opened into a private sitting room. “Elizabeth, this is our private salon, and through that door are my chambers. These rooms were also refurbished when my father passed away five years ago. I could not bear to occupy his room as it had been left. It felt as though he might walk through the door at any moment and find me sitting at his desk or sleeping in his bed.”
She glanced toward the far door that connected his room to the rest of the suite. “May I see your chambers?” she asked.
He was momentarily surprised but offered his arm and led her through the suite into his chamber. It was larger than the mistress’s room, with dark green walls, leather furnishings, and heavy carpets. The bed stood high off the floor. A faint thrill ran up her spine. She was alone in his bedchamberwith him.
He noticed the change in her expression. “Is something the matter?”
She flushed. “I was only thinking, sir, that I should need a step stool in order to climb upon this bed.”
He colored slightly. “Ah, yes.”
To dispel the awkward silence, she continued, “Your room is very dignified; the décor is decidedly masculine. I have never before been in a gentleman’s bedchamber, not even my papa’s.”
He smiled. “You forget, you spent the night in mine at Netherfield.”
