He shook his head. “No. It is only so unexpected… and it is awkward that she is here, having seen your new home before you.”
She sensed that he was not saying everything he thought, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that all you wish to say?”
He shifted and nodded, not looking at her. Elizabeth felt frustrated. She knew he held something against Jane, but until he shared with her, she could do nothing to either mitigate or confirm his suppositions.
He stood and beckoned to her. “Come, let me show you to your chambers. I am very anxious for you to see them. They have not been updated since my mother did so upon her marriage, and I wish to know if you want anything changed.”
Elizabeth put aside her worries and frustrations and took his arm. She leaned into him as he led her to a grand staircase. Theyclimbed it slowly, and she listened as her husband provided details about the house.
“The marble came all the way from Italy,” he said, gesturing to the stone that lined the stairs and floors. “The rugs are from Persia, too.”
“I cannot imagine what it took to transport the materials for this place,” she replied, suitably awed by the grandeur around her. “Tell me, are the taxes for the windows astronomical?” The front of the house had many windows— over twenty if she were to take a guess.
“They are, but we can well afford them. Much of Pemberley’s income comes from tenants, but I have diversified our holdings as well through various investments.”
Elizabeth nodded. Her uncle often spoke of the changes coming. Tradesmen such as Mr. Bingley were making their fortunes and upsetting the balance of classes. Soon, tenant farmers would leave their fields in droves for more lucrative work.
They came to the top of the stairs, and he led her to the left. “To the right leads to the guest wing,” he informed her. “The family quarters are this way.”
The hall was long and the floor was covered in a thick, red runner. Her feet sank into the plush carpet, and she counted the doors as they walked past.Eight, nine, ten, eleven…At the twelfth door, he stopped and pushed it open.
“This is your chamber,” he said. She entered and stared at the opulent surroundings. The room was dated, to be sure, but it still felt elegant and refined. The furniture had been painted a lovely white, complementing the soft green, blue, and cream shades that made up the coverlet, curtains, and furniture upholstery. “You may change anything you like,” her husband said quietly. He nudged the door closed and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her back into his chest. He nuzzled the side of her headwith his nose before kissing her neck. Elizabeth closed her eyes, enjoying his touch and thankful that he did not appear too angry at her deception.
He straightened and released her to take her hand. They walked across the room to another door, and he pulled it open. “This is our sitting room,” he said, walking through the doorway.
“Just as at Darcy House!” She turned and smiled.
“Yes, the same ancestor that built Pemberley had the house in town done as well. My rooms are through the opposite door.”
“And are they as well done as my own?” she asked pertly, raising an eyebrow.
He chuckled. “I have not changed anything since my father died,” he confessed. “I could not bear it.”
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Mayhap we can make arrangements, and they can be redone when we return to town.”
He nodded. “Would you care to rest before dinner?” he asked. “There is some time to do so. I have a few estate matters I need to see to.”
Elizabeth nodded, the idea of a rest appealing to her. She had been strangely tired the last two weeks, and she hoped that the strain of losing her father had not prompted some illness to take hold.
Smith appeared from a servant’s door and made her way to Elizabeth’s dressing room. She emerged with a nightgown and quickly removed her mistress’s gown and exchanged it for the soft, white sleepwear. Elizabeth removed the pins from her hair and tossed them on the dressing table. Still in awe of her lovely surroundings, she climbed beneath the coverlet and fell asleep.
Smith alerted her that it was time to dress for dinner, and Elizabeth struggled to wake from her slumber. She felt groggy and a little grouchy, but she allowed herself to be dressed in a black evening gown. She sighed. It had been a favorite, dyed hastily when she learned of her father’s passing. Others had beenordered while she stayed in Meryton and had been delivered to Longbourn before they departed.
I suppose I ought not to be so disgruntled. Jane will be required to wear mourning for an entire year. I only need to wear it for six months.Elizabeth knew that her loss meant she could not socialize with the neighbors during that time, and she hoped they understood. Mrs. Reynolds had put a black wreath on the door, signaling that the house was in mourning. Elizabeth appreciated her thoughtfulness.
Dinner was served at six o’clock. Darcy had kindly asked Elizabeth whether she preferred town or country hours, and she had replied in favor of the latter. Georgiana and Jane joined them.
Darcy escorted Elizabeth to what her husband called the small dining room and seated her, fiddling with the mourning band on his arm as he walked to his own seat.
Jane sat beside Elizabeth, and Georgiana sat on her new sister’s other side. Elizabeth glanced around, taking in her surroundings. She could see why it was referred to as the small dining room. The table had room for only six people, creating an intimate dining situation.
“How was your journey to Derbyshire, Mrs. Collins?” Elizabeth started at her husband addressing her sister in such a formal manner. He sounded stiff and aloof, just as he had in Hertfordshire last autumn.
“Why do we not dispense with formalities?” she cut in before Jane could reply. “We are all family here. What say you, Jane? Georgiana?” She leveled a challenging gaze at her husband, raising both eyebrows expectantly.
“Of course!” Georgiana was the first to reply, turning to beam at Jane. “Will you call me by my Christian name, Mrs. Collins? …Jane?”
Jane glanced at Mr. Darcy, an unfathomable expression on her face, before replying to Georgiana. “I should be pleased, Georgiana. You must call me Jane.”
