Chapter 31
The carriage was drawing closer to Pemberley. The village of Lambton came into sight, huddled in the valley, a pretty hamlet with thatched-roofed houses and a bridge over a little stream that coursed through it. Behind them, in the distance, Darcy could see the dark outline of the Peaks that had been so much of his childhood.
“We’re almost there,” he said, drinking in the sight, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “We are almost home.”
“Almost?You have been saying that for several hours now. If I had known it would take so long to reach Pemberley, I would have gone through the mirror."
“This time, I mean it. Do you see that stone over there? That is the boundary of the estate. We are almost there, but Pemberley is quite large, and it will take some time to reach the house.”
She gripped his arm, and a panicked look crossed her face as she surveyed the wall. "I have suddenly realized I am to be the mistress of a large household, with an estate that it takes manyminutes to traverse. I have no idea how to go about it. I think I want to turn back."
Darcy threw back his head and guffawed. "You have faced Napoleon's mages, stopped an invasion, and saved the king, yet you are worried you will not be able to manage a household? My dearest Elizabeth, do you really expect me to believe that?"
“Well, if you express it that way—” She smiled sheepishly. "I suppose I will find a way."
"Of course you will find a way. And remember, you will not be alone. I will be by your side. It will be a new experience for me as well. Pemberley is my estate, and I have visited it many times over the years, but I have never stayed very long. The longest was last year, when you were asked to leave the Academy. The fact is, I will need guidance. My father died when I was young, before I had a chance to learn about managing an estate. I will be fumbling about in the dark."
"It sounds like we have a challenge ahead of us. But we can learn together, and together, I am certain, we can manage."
As they passed through the iron gates that marked the entrance to Pemberley, his heart quickened.
He had waited so long.
He had never really believed that it would happen — that he and Elizabeth would ever be free of the burden that had been placed on their shoulders. But now, as the landscape grew more and more familiar, it started to sink in.
He was going home.
As they came to the familiar road that led to Pemberley, a lump settled in his throat. It grew and grew until it threatened to choke him. Memories surfaced of his mother, his father, his baby sister Georgiana, all taken by the same fever. Happy childhood memories mingled with a terrible sense of loss. So much had happened since then. In some ways, he was a stranger to this place. In others, he knew it was where he belonged.He had dreamed of coming back for so many years, he could scarcely believe it was happening. The terrible lump in his throat expanded and to his utter horror a sob escaped him.
Elizabeth sat up and looked at him. Her eyes were full of sympathy. "Darcy?"
He shook his head, unable to speak. Why was he reacting this way? He had been here many times over the years — brief visits that had kept his connection to his home and his land, but he had not lived here since he was a boy. It was just that he was only now beginning to believe it. He was returning here as a man, and he was coming to stay. The war was over.
He did not know if the choking sensation was mourning the years he had lost, or if they were tears of joy. He had never cried, not once, since the death of his family, not even when his Twin Lord Cuthbert had died. He had held his tears inside and now they were refusing to stay there. He turned his face away, embarrassed, as he felt a hot tear trickling down his cheek.
It was useless to try and hide it from Elizabeth. She reached out and put her finger to trace the moisture on his face.
"Oh, Darcy," she said, quietly, her voice full of understanding. Tears of her own welled in her eyes.
He put out his thumb to wipe away the moisture from her eyes and gave a breathless laugh, trying to hold himself together. He reached out and drew her to him in a fierce hug, allowing the tears to fall, knowing she would not judge him for it. His sense of shame disappeared. All the bitterness and sadness and sense of time lost and wasted poured out, until finally he reached a feeling of peace.
If it were not for those years of war and pain, he would never have met Elizabeth. He would never have known what it was to truly love. He tightened his arms around her. She was his anchor, his safe harbor. Together they would make Pemberley into a happy home again.
"I am sorry," he said. "This was not how I imagined it would be like to come back." He gave a little laugh.
"You need not apologize," she said, gently. "You cannot control everything. I am glad you felt free enough with me to express your sadness." She kissed the wetness on his cheeks. "I have always wanted you to be honest with me about everything, good and bad."
As they emerged from the wooded road, the sun came out from behind a cloud, bathing Pemberley in the saffron light of late afternoon. The waters of the small lake glittered like liquid gold and the fountain his mother had installed sparkled like crystal.
Beside him, Elizabeth gasped. "This is Pemberley?” She stared out of the window. “I never imagined it would be so beautiful."
He smirked, satisfied by her reaction. The approach to Pemberley was breathtaking. His mother had an artistic talent for envisioning beauty, and his father had indulged it by bringing the best architects to put her ideas into practice.
As they drew closer, Darcy started to point out a few of his favorite spots to her, but she was looking everywhere, her eyes darting from one thing to another. He smiled. There would be time enough for him to show her the places he loved.
Then her gaze was glued on the house itself. He imagined what it must look like to her.
“And that is -- Pemberley,” he murmured.
