“The other crack will have begun in the same way. I shall write to Jacobs for his opinion, but I should think it will need shoring.”
Darcy nodded sombrely and hoped he did not look as bilious as he felt. He left Ferguson to make the necessary arrangements and returned to Elizabeth. “My apologies for the interruption. Allow me to take you to my sister.”
Elizabeth did not begin walking. “Did your steward have bad news?”
He grimaced slightly, wishing that Ferguson would bring him any news that wasnotbad. “He has discovered another crack. Not as serious as the one you can see but every flaw increases the possibility of collapse before it can be repaired.”
She looked unexpectedly troubled by the news. When she whispered, “Your beautiful home!” it was so soft, Darcy could believe she had not meant to say it aloud, and her use of the word ‘home’ twisted the ever-present knot in his gut uncomfortably tight.
“The damage appears to be limited to this section of the house, at least. It is built on an E-shaped footprint, and this wing is effectively the bottom arm of that E and is the only part showing deterioration. Which is fortunate in one regard, but it is adding considerably to the mystery of it.”
“I hope you find the cause—and a solution.”
“As do I. A lot of people depend on my doing so.”
She fixed him with one of her searching looks. “I confess, I never truly comprehended what a burden being master of all this must be.”
“It was not my intention to sound self-pitying.”
“I did not take it so. Therearea lot of people depending on you—your housekeeper made that very clear when she spoke to us on Monday.”
Darcy knew not whether he was more indignant or disconcerted to hear that Mrs Reynolds told anyoneanythingabout him. “And pray, what else does my housekeeper say of me to visitors?”
“You need not look so horrified—she was very complimentary about you,” Elizabeth said with a grin. “My comment about burdens relates to something she said about your tenants and servants. It made me consider how many people’s happiness must be in your guardianship. And here,” she gestured towards the house, “is proof of how far that guardianship extends beyond people. It is a vast responsibility.”
“It is not an unwelcome one. Indeed, it is more privilege than burden.”
“Pemberley is fortunate to have such a conscientious master. Not all landlords are so dedicated. My father has certainly not taken the same care with Longbourn. I do not presume to compare the two houses, but even in relative terms, Longbourn has not flourished under my father’s superintendence as Pemberley is clearly doing under yours. Perhaps because it is entailed…” She shook her head. “I do not know, but yours is a very fine legacy.”
Darcy did not answer. He ought to be delighted she should think so, but it was as though, with the sentiment, Elizabeth had torn the rug from beneath his feet. He had been concerned by the appearance of the crack, of course—deeply so—but his primary object had been policy: hazards and consequences, materials and labour, timings and costs. Elizabeth had articulated precisely that which had been sitting at the pit of his stomach, gnawing at his equanimity, the thing he had been stoically ignoring for days: his family seat was crumbling, and he was unutterably sad about it.
“I am sorry if I have said something to pain you. The last thing I would wish is to add to your distress.”
Elizabeth was regarding him anxiously, one hand hovering halfway between them as though she had reached to comfort him and thought better of it. He resisted the urge to take her hand in his own, though he longed to feel the consolation of her touch.
“If there is any burden upon my shoulders, it presses more heavily from the past than all present concerns. Pemberley is, as you say, the work of generations. The prospect that it might fall under my curation is difficult to bear.”
“It is not as though you have gambled away your fortune or wilfully allowed the house to fall into disrepair. This is entirely out of your control.”
“That makes it worse. If I had done something, it could be more easilyundone. As it is, I know not what the solution ought to be, if I can afford it, or if it can even be done. I find myself faced with the real possibility that this could be the beginning of Pemberley’s downfall.”
“Oh, but I quite disagree!” she replied fervently, almost crossly. “Pemberley is manifestly more than stones and mortar. Nobody could think otherwise who has seen all this—” She made a sweeping gesture with her arm that took in the grounds as well as the house. “Or heard your friends and family and servants speak of it, or witnessed the pride you take in it, and the care you takeofit. If the whole house were to fall down, you would still be the master of something of real importance to a great many people, both past and present, and I daresay future. And walls, you know, can be rebuilt as easily as they can be knocked down.”
Darcy savoured the familiar upwelling of admiration he had used to feel whenever she locked horns with him in the early days of their acquaintance. She had done it again: induced him to say, to feel more than he intended, but by God he could get used to having such a fierce advocate! Fierce, and devastatingly alluring with it. He considered her handsome at all times, but in high emotion—be it obstinacy, anger, or, as now, defiance—Elizabeth’s beauty was captivating, her complexion radiant and her dark eyes flashing fire.
“You have a most effective way of making a person see the truth before their eyes,” he admitted. Such she had done when she accused him of selfishness, conceit, and ungentlemanly behaviour—all demonstrably true, all in dire need of correction. “Pemberley is far more than the sum of its parts. I welcome your assurances. Indeed, I am persuaded that I ought to take steps to preserve some of those parts and have this wing emptied.” He gave her a small, wry smile and made yet another confession. “I have been putting it off.”
“Until your guests left?”
“That is the reason I avowed to myself, but in truth, it felt too much like an admission that there was any real danger.”
Elizabeth gave him an encouraging nod and set off back towards the front of the house. “It is always better to take charge than sit about, waiting for Fate to play its hand. And that must be especially true for those with a strong inclination to have things their own way.”
It could have chafed but, said as it was with a playful, sideways glance, the tease gratified Darcy no end. “Purpose is always preferable to irresolution.”
“Oh, absolutely. If only buildings were as complying as people, you could simplytellthe wall not to fall down. Have you tried? If you gave it one of your very severe stares, it might work.”
To distract himself from imagining what it would be like to spin her around and kiss her until she begged him to marry her, Darcy asked whether her plans were yet determined for the rest of their travels.
