This, Darcy sensed, was the crux of Mrs. Bennet’s interest in Pemberley. Curious to know what she meant by it, he asked: “Where did she live?”
“It was a little town she extols to the heavens whenever she has the chance. It is called Lambton.”
“Is Lambton not the town near Pemberley, Darcy?” asked Fitzwilliam, knowing very well that it was.
“Yes, it is,” said Darcy, surprised by this unexpected connection. “When did she live there?”
Mrs. Bennet appeared insufferably smug, regarding him with a smile almost beatific in its brilliance. “I do not quite recall, Mr. Darcy, though I believe it was when she was a girl.”
“Aunt was a little older,” interjected Miss Elizabeth. “I recall her telling me she left Lambton when she was about fifteen.”
“Which would have been about twenty years ago,” said Mrs. Bennet with a nod. “Or a little less.”
“Perhaps I know of her,” said Mr. Darcy. “Who was her father?”
“Her father was a parson,” replied Mrs. Bennet, “and his name was Cantwell.”
“Reverend Cantwell!” exclaimed Darcy. “I remember little of him, for I was young, and my family attended church inKympton, but I know the name very well. My father had good relations with him and always referred to him as an excellent parson.”
If anything, Mrs. Bennet’s response was even more self-satisfied. Darcy found himself afire with curiosity, but he could not ask, for at that moment the housekeeper entered the room and announced the start of dinner. As Bingley escorted Mrs. Bennet—though he ensured Miss Bennet occupied his other arm—and Mr. Bennet approached Miss Bingley, the rest of the party paired with their dinner partners or guided two ladies into the room, Darcy kept Miss Elizabeth’s company for himself, determined to know the truth of her mother’s interest. When Miss Bingley signaled for the soup, Darcy lost no time in querying Miss Elizabeth.
“Such a connection is quite a surprise, Miss Elizabeth. I wonder that you never spoke of it before.”
“It would have been presumptuous, Mr. Darcy,” said she. “I knew nothing of the location of Pemberley or Lambton, and as you never mentioned the latter and my aunt said nothing of the former, I had no knowledge of the connection.”
Darcy nodded. “No, I suppose you could not. Yet your mother spoke of it as if she expected to provoke a response.”
Miss Elizabeth sipped from her soup, formulating her answer or so Darcy supposed. It was a moment before she spoke again.
“There was a certain event today that rendered the location of Pemberley a matter of some interest; my mother was determined to obtain the details. I hope she did not offend you with her impertinent questions.”
“Not at all,” said Darcy. “Think nothing more of it, for I completely understand why she would ask.
“Or perhaps I do not completely understand. You mentioned something of an event today?”
“Yes, I did,” said Miss Elizabeth. “I received a letter frommy aunt. With all that has happened, I quite forgot that I am to travel this summer with my relations. As my uncle cannot spare enough time from his business, we cannot go as far as he originally designed.”
Dismay filled Darcy’s breast. Miss Elizabeth would travel that summer? Just when he was certain he had provoked her regard. This was the most inopportune timing!
Then Darcy paused and watched her, noting how her lips curled despite her attempt to show nonchalance. The gist of the discussion he had just engaged in with her mother returned to his memory, telling Darcy there was something he was missing. Darcy was certain he now knew what it was.
“Traveling can be quite enjoyable,” said he, “if one takes the time to stop and tour locations of interest.”
“That is my uncle’s plan,” said Miss Elizabeth. “The delay has tried my aunt’s patience most cruelly, for she has wished to travel to Derbyshire for many years.”
“And where were they to go?”
“The lakes,” replied Miss Elizabeth, still clinging to her apparent unconcern.
“Yet by your confession, they cannot go so far. Dare I ask where they mean to visit?”
“Derbyshire is our destination,” said Miss Elizabeth, her lips now curved in an obvious smile.
“Teasing woman!” exclaimed Darcy, his outburst catching the attention of nearly the entire company. Darcy ignored them, for no one was so important as the woman before him. “Tell me, Miss Elizabeth—what part of Derbyshire do they intend to visit?”
“Why, we shall visit Lambton, Mr. Darcy, the site of so many of my aunt’s most precious memories.”
This opened so many possibilities, that Darcy could scarcely conceive of them all. A time to court without the interference of her family or his, the privilege of showing her the scenes of hisyouth, the place he hoped would become as dear to her as it was to him, the chance to demonstrate what sort of man he was when he was comfortable in his home—all these things and more lay before him. All he needed to do was reach out and grasp them.
