He thought about that for a moment. “There was a Miss Elizabeth in Hertfordshire—Elizabeth Bennet. Stayed at Mr Bingley’s house for a few days. She was at Hunsford when we were at Rosings, too.”
Mrs Reynolds bristled anew at the recollection of the young woman’s coyness as she purported to know the master but a little. “What did you make of her?”
“She struck me as a pleasant girl. The colonel certainly liked her well enough, according to his man.”
“She knows Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
Mr Vaughan nodded. “He was at Rosings with Mr Darcy as usual. Miss Bennet dined there with them once or twice.”
And she had dined with Lady Catherine de Bourgh! “I believe she may be acquainted with George Wickham as well.”
“Likely. His company was encamped near her home in Hertfordshire.”
“Upon my word! Whatever can she have been about coming here in that case?” Mrs Reynolds cried, dismayed at the prospect of any friend of George Wickham’s snooping about Pemberley uninvited.
“I am sure there is no cause for alarm. There are plenty of ‘Lizzys’ in the world. Perhaps the young lady who came today was a different acquaintance. Or a total stranger.”
“He definitely knew her,” said a gruff voice from the doorway. “Evening, Vaughan. Welcome home.”
Mrs Reynolds jumped as Mr Howes clomped over to the table, dragged a chair noisily out from under it, and set his mug down with a loud bang. Head gardener he may be, but he had never quite learnt to leave his outdoor manners in the garden where they belonged. “What made you think Mr Darcy and the young lady were acquainted?” she asked him.
“His face when he saw her, for starters. Well, both their faces come to think of it. Never saw two people more embarrassed to bump into each other.”
“Thatwas what distressed him!”
“Seemed to knock him for six, to be sure. Not that he talked to her for long on that occasion.”
“Was there another occasion?”
“Well, there’s the other reason I know they are acquainted. Because if he did not know her, then how do you explain his coming back out around the lake to find her and her friends and take over the tour of the park from me?”
Mr Vaughan raised his eyebrows but said nothing and returned his gaze to his plate. He never partook in speculation directly relating to the master, even among the upper servants. Neither did Mrs Reynolds in the usual course of things, yet she could not allay her disquiet where this young woman was concerned. She fancied that if Mr Vaughan had witnessed Mr Darcy’s distress in the moments after that first encounter, he might share her unease.
“Well, all I can say is we must be thankful she has gone and nothing worse came of it.”
CHAPTERFIVE
TALKING OF POSSIBILITIES
Mrs Whitaker’s parlour was reminiscent of Longbourn’s with its comfortable but slightly worn chairs and bundles of sewing paraphernalia scattered about. There was a similar hubbub of lively conversation, too, as Mrs Gardiner reminisced with her old acquaintance. The scene afforded a soothing sense of familiarity that Elizabeth vastly appreciated since it was in stark contrast to the riot of confusion occupying her head.
He was not supposed to have been there! The chambermaid in Bakewell had confirmed it, his own housekeeper had confirmed it—yet Pemberley was where Mr Darcy had very much been. There, also, hadshebeen, caught gazing at his house as though calculating the worth of every brick she had forfeited! She winced at the memory of it, mortification reasserting itself with the same force as it had then. How she wished they could have met under different circumstances!
“And so, Miss Bennet is your niece on your husband’s side?”
“Mrs Bennet is Mr Gardiner’s sister. She—both his sisters, in fact—live in Hertfordshire.”
“Oh? Whereabouts? I have an uncle near Bishops Stortford.”
Elizabeth refocused her gaze and discovered her aunt and Mrs Whitaker regarding her. “My godmother used to live in Bishops Stortford. My own home, Longbourn, is farther away, near Meryton.”
She was relieved when this proved enough to satisfy her company. They moved on to discussing the whereabouts of various other relations, leaving Elizabeth at liberty to reflect on her previous train of thought.
Four-and-twenty hours ago, she would not have said that she wished to meet Mr Darcy at all. She had come to comprehend that he was far from unfeeling, it was true. The letter in which he explained his history with Mr Wickham and her own retrospections had taught her that. She would even admit to a good deal of regret for her conduct towards him, which had been proved petulant and vain. Nevertheless, she had not previously harboured any desire to rekindle the acquaintance. If asked, she would have said that such an encounter could only occasion pain to both parties.
That was before she heard his housekeeper’s praise of him, a more generous account one would be hard pressed to invent. Before he showed such solicitous attention to her aunt and uncle, relations he had formerly derided as reprehensible connexions. Before she witnessed the startling alteration in his behaviour, his pride all gone, replaced with civility and gentleness.
“Will you dine with us tomorrow?” enquired Miss Tanner, Mrs Whitaker’s spinster sister who had been sitting mutely at Elizabeth’s side for the chief of the evening. “Rosemary is excessively anxious to see you.”
