Elizabeth reached out a trembling hand, as if to touch the painted cheek, then snatched it back, struck by a sudden awareness of her intrusion. This room, this gallery of ghosts, was clearly a private place, a place of memory and sorrow.
Then a sudden sound from the corridor outside made her jump. Footsteps. Heavy, decisive, and unmistakably masculine.
Panic seized her. Had Darcy returned early? Had he never departed Pemberley at all? Either way, she could not be found here!
Elizabeth turned and fled through the exit at the other end of the gallery.
As was her usual habit on Thursday, Elizabeth spent that afternoon reviewing the household accounts. In truth, there was remarkably little that required her diligent, or indeed, even her cursory, attention. The household expenses were minimal with such a limited staff, and Mrs Reynolds did an excellent job.
Still, it gave her a sense of purpose.
She was in the midst of verifying sums when Brooks announced a visitor.
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Pemberley was closed to social calls. Given the circumstances, they had neither time nor inclination for social obligations. The door knocker had never been put up since she had arrived. So that someone had made it past Brooks was of no little astonishment.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, ma’am.”
The colonel entered the room with an easy grace. Elizabeth was inclined to like him on sight. Though he was not a traditionally handsome man, he was resplendent in regimentals, which, combined with his cheerful countenance and engaging smile, made him a decidedly welcome sight. Lydia and Kitty, she imagined, would have been fighting over him within minutes of an introduction.
He stopped a few paces inside the room, his smile widening, and bowed in greeting. “Mrs Darcy,” he said, “I am Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, your cousin by marriage, and I hope, in time, your friend.”
So this was Darcy’s mysterious visitor — the cousin, Richard!
Elizabeth, though taken aback by his unexpected arrival and his equally unexpected charm, worked to conceal hersurprise behind a smile that she hoped was welcoming. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”
The colonel straightened, and his eyes twinkled as he said, “Permit me to offer you a somewhat belated, but no less heartfelt, welcome to the family.”
His open, unaffected kindness touched her deeply. What a contrast he presented to his cousin’s formidable reserve! “Thank you, that is very kind of you, Colonel.”
“I understand from Brooks that my cousin is preoccupied with business.”
“Yes, he rode out this morning on a matter of some urgency. If you have a need to speak with him, I expect him to return…” well, she honestly had no idea when, or indeed, if, Darcy might see fit to grace them with his presence.
As she contemplated how best to articulate this awkward marital reality, this gulf of unshared information, the colonel grinned and said, “You need say no more, Mrs Darcy. Beside, I find the prospect of furthering our acquaintance much more appealing.Him, I already know too well.”
A maid entered with the tea tray, her movements flustered in the presence of such a charming, high-ranking officer.
As Elizabeth poured the tea, Colonel Fitzwilliam settled himself into a chair opposite Elizabeth, his demeanour relaxed, his conversation easy and amusing.
She learnt that he was the second son of the Earl of Matlock, who was the elder brother of Darcy’s late mother. This position as a second son gave him some freedom to choose his own path in life. He had selected the army, because the navy’s weevils were too abominable for his taste.
He spoke of London and his time on the Continent, selecting humorous anecdotes to share from his experiences, and carefully avoided any direct mention of the Blight or the true purpose of Elizabeth’s presence at Pemberley.
For a while, she found herself forgetting her troubles as she laughed at his stories and responded to his gentle raillery with her own. It was an invigorating relief to converse with someone who acknowledged her as an equal.
“I hope I am not too bold in asking to call you Elizabeth,” said the colonel, “After all, we are family, however unconventionally our acquaintance has begun.”
The simple act of hearing her given name spoken with such ease, after weeks of being addressed only as “Madam” or “Mrs Darcy” by her husband, brought a gleam of life to her spirit.
“You are too bold by far, Colonel. But ‘Elizabeth’ is a sound I confess I have missed. I will permit it,” she teased.
“Excellent!” he declared, “then I am to be Richard to you.”
“I am glad of that.”
The colonel’s expression grew a shade more serious, and his voice dropped into a more confidential tone. “I trust you have found your explorations of Pemberley illuminating?”
Apprehension shot through Elizabeth. Her mind flashed, unbidden, to her impulsive foray into the forbidden west wing that morning, and to her hasty retreat.
