Although Mr Gardiner was looking forward to visiting Pemberley, he was far from idle in the meantime. Mrs Gardiner’s old friends surrounded them with warmth and joy, andinvitations flowed freely—not only to dinner but also to fishing excursions, which Mr Gardiner greatly preferred to hunting.
In that cheerful and lively atmosphere, Elizabeth, too, found contentment. Yet no one objected when she chose to wander through the countryside rather than accompany her relatives.
More than once, Elizabeth had taken the carriage past Lambton to the place where she had learnt the boundary of the Pemberley estate began. She walked along the well-kept road but never saw anyone save the villagers or Pemberley servants, who passed her by with curious but respectful greetings.
She had considered writing a note herself, but in the end, her uncle had already shared everything necessary.
Then, the waiting began. She would have spent the entire day indoors, waiting, and when Mrs Gardiner managed to take her out for an hour or two on a walk, she would hurry back, feverishly searching through the letters or gazing sadly at the empty correspondence tray.
“I was certain he would reply,” she said on the third day, but her aunt only shook her head sorrowfully.
Even Mrs Gardiner had been certain he would reply, and at first, the silence surprised her. But then, seeing Elizabeth’s distress—although she strove to appear hopeful—she began, in her heart, to suffer for her niece. After three days, it became clear that he would not write back.
Mr Darcy’s silence stood as the most unmistakable sign of his desire to avoid their presence. Proper decorum would have dictated a brief note, conveying some polite excuse—a prior engagement, perhaps, or an unavoidable absence. Yet, in light of the delicate and tangled history that bound them, his silence might be met with a certain tolerance, if not complete comprehension.
In the meantime, her aunt had confided to Mr Gardiner parts of their history, though sparing him the particulars including the marriage proposal, merely allowing him to imagine that Mr Darcy’s strange behaviour was due more to caprice than to any true change in his regard towards them. Mr Gardiner nodded, appearing to understand, though he was inwardly displeased that so trivial a reason had cost him the opportunity of securing a valuable client.
At times, they observed Elizabeth with quiet concern, yet there was nothing to be done but wait.
“How much longer shall we remain?” Elizabeth asked, ten days after their arrival.
“Two or three days at most,” Mrs Gardiner replied, and hope gradually deserted her, leaving in its place a sorrow to which she had by now grown accustomed. Only this time, once they were seated in the carriage, there would remain no grounds for hope. She had undertaken this journey in defiance of his parting words, hoping that once the affair with Lady Olivia was settled, he might again imagine a future in which she, too, had a place. But his silence drew the curtain over the last act. Their story had come to an end.
She knew they would meet again in the future, owing to the connection between Lady Oakham and her aunt. Yet when that moment came, they would be no more than acquaintances—both fully aware that whatever deeper bond had once existed was now severed.
At night, she wept at times, but her tears fell in silence. She did not wish her aunt to witness her sorrow nor to offer comfort. This time, she sought resolution from within. She had written nothing more to Charlotte beyond an initial letter, brimming with joy, sent during the journey. A week ago, she had still clung to hope, but the sorrow that now enveloped her was not one she wished to share.
On the morning of their departure, she and her aunt resolved to take one final walk through the Matlocks’ beautiful park, where pheasants spread their splendid tails whenever they passed.
As though they wished to bid them farewell, their sharp cries brought a flicker of cheer to Elizabeth.
“I shall miss them,” she said with a smile, hoping to dispel the sadness that had settled over them.
Mrs Gardiner smiled as well, and together, they climbed the steps to the house one last time to fetch their travelling coats.
But just as they were preparing to leave, a commotion erupted in the hall—raised voices, verging on shouts—and although Elizabeth allowed herself, for the briefest instant, to hope it might be Mr Darcy, she knew well that such a stormy entrance did not suit his nature. The fragile illusion dissolved at once as Lady Catherine swept into the drawing-room in her customary tempestuous manner.
“There you are!” she cried, and Mrs Gardiner looked at Elizabeth in confusion, for she did not know who the woman was. But once introductions were made, deep concern settled over her features.
“I wish to speak to Miss Bennet,” declared Lady Catherine, and Elizabeth reassured her aunt with a smile and a gesture. Although unwilling, Mrs Gardiner left the room.
Elizabeth waited in silence for Lady Catherine to speak, though she already suspected the reason for her visit. Her ladyship pursued her aims with relentless obstinacy, determined to sweep aside any obstacle to her daughter’s supposed happiness. She remembered what had happened in London and how fiercely she had fought against Lady Olivia and used any means to vanquish her. Elizabeth could have reassured her that nothing remained between herself and Mr Darcy but preferred to be silent. She had never liked the arrogant mistressof Rosings, and the prospect of a brief confrontation, however pointless, amused her.
“Miss Bennet, I have little time at my disposal. Accompany me for a few steps out of doors.” There was a command in her tone that Elizabeth knew all too well, yet her voice lacked its usual firmness. She had never seen Lady Catherine walk out of doors before and thus regarded her with some surprise, but she nodded and followed her.
It was strange that they should be going out, the only explanation being that Lady Catherine did not wish their conversation to be overheard, yet no definitive reason was given. In any case, nothing they might discuss held any interest for her now. She longed only to leave Derbyshire and, with it, the entire past bound to Mr Darcy.
As they passed through the hall, Lady Catherine pushed open the doors to the dining parlour and drawing-room and, after a brief inspection, pronounced both to be in an acceptable state of order and cleanliness, then walked on.
“This used to be my home,” she said without the faintest trace of emotion.
As soon as they reached the garden, Lady Catherine began without hesitation.
“You cannot fail to understand, Miss Bennet, the reason for my visit. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I came the moment I learnt of your stay at Matlock.”
Elizabeth looked at her with astonishment.
“Indeed, you are mistaken, madam. I have not been able to imagine a reason for the honour of your presence here.”
