“You are very wise, Aunt.”
“No it has nothing to do with wisdom but a little knowledge of his family. As you know Lambton is my home town and where I grew up. And as Mr Wickham informed us himself it is not five miles from Pemberley.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said and turned to look at her aunt.
“I grew up hearing about the goodness of Mr Darcy Senior and Lady Anne. I saw them often in the Lambton parish on Sundays and they never appeared unreligious, selfish or malicious.”
“I am sure they were not.” Elizabeth shook her head.
“And as you know I still have many very good friends in the region. They always tell me of the local gossip and this current Mr Darcy is highly respected for his patronage. Pemberley employs many of the locals; there must be at least a hundred servants including the stable and grounds people working in the estate. If Mr Darcy was the blackguard that Mr Wickham very inappropriately disclosed to you, he would not be the revered landlord and master of such an exemplary estate.”
Elizabeth nodded in approval as Mr Gardiner approached them and offered his arm to both ladies telling them that in one more day they would be entering Derbyshire County.
Elizabeth had planned to tell her aunt that her feelings towards the master of Pemberley had taken a considerable turn for the better. But she herself was not certain how much she felt and how much to disclose. At any rate, with her uncle joining them, the conversation changed to topics related to their tour and which houses, museums, parks and castles they planned to visit in Derbyshire.
Chapter 21
The maid at their Inn in Lambton had confirmed that the Darcys were not at home for the summer. Elizabeth felt both disappointed and elated at the same time. She wanted to see him again. She wanted to deepen a friendship and trust between them, but she was also aware that he had always been head-hunted by all the young women of his circle... Miss Bingley was the classic example and Elizabeth was resolved not to be compared with such a woman.
Despite all her disappointment and reservations, to Pemberley therefore they were to go on the second day of their stay in Lambton.
As they drove along Elizabeth watched for the first appearance of Pemberley's woods with some perturbation and when at length they turned in at the lodge her spirits were in a high flutter.
The park was large and contained a great variety of grounds. They entered it in its lowest point and drove for some time through a beautiful wood stretching over a wide expanse.
Elizabeth admired everything she saw; the image of its master followed her; he seemed to resemble his estate in character, beauty and strength. She smiled at her own foolishness in comparing Mr Darcy with lands and trees.
While Elizabeth admired every aspect of the grounds the carriage slowly climbed for half a mile and then turned a bendon the road at the top of the incline. There was a gap between the trees and the house was first spied clearly from this vantage point.
Elizabeth’s breath caught and held as her eyes were arrested by the magnificent structure, which was situated on the other side of the valley below. She had never seen a place more happily situated and she had to admit that the natural beauty of it was further enhanced by the lack of any awkward taste. Nature ruled at Pemberley... not the master!
It was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground and backed by a ridge of woody hills; and in front a beautiful stream meandered its way down and into a shining lake that reflected the building behind it.
They applied to see inside the house and Mrs Reynolds the housekeeper attended them on the tour. The inside of the house was equally beautiful and elegant as the exterior. They followed her into the formal dining parlour. It was a large, well proportioned room able to accommodate over thirty guests. Every room bespoke of the dignity and good taste of its master.
The faithful servant could not have been more ebullient in her praise of her employer. Every room gave her an excuse to commend him in one way or another.
Elizabeth smiled to herself to see such devotion, yet she had to conclude that an intelligent and long standing servant who had known him since he was four years old could not have been wrong in her estimation of the man.
They stopped to admire a few miniatures and Mrs Reynolds proceeded to tell them about the people portrayed in them. One of them was Mr Wickham and the lady was equally out spoken about the Militia man but in the opposite way. She had nothing good to say about him.
Elizabeth gave silent thanks to the Heavens that she had already appraised her aunt about the man; otherwise this revelation might have become disconcerting for her aunt.
Mrs Reynolds then led them to the gallery upstairs where there were generations of Darcy portraits. Elizabeth ignored the great majority of them and unconsciously hurried down the gallery looking for the only one that mattered to her.
When she found it she could not help herself, her eyes filled with tears as she gazed upon his handsome face. She felt an emptiness in her chest that bespoke of a loneliness and a need that until now she had never experienced.
Her uncle and aunt moved down the hall and continued with their tour.
Elizabeth did not know how long she had been staring at his portrait, but eventually the silence around her made her blink and walk away from it, even if it was only his picture looking back at her.
She felt depressed. She had known he wanted to be close friends with her in Kent, making an effort to show her every cordiality. But she had thrown his olive branch back on his face, only changing her stance when there was no possibility of denial.
If he had fully forgiven her foolishness, the folly of her approving of Mr Wickham at his expense, he would have returned to Netherfield and resumed their tentative friendship.
But he had not!
Elizabeth, as much as she liked his house, started to feel overwhelmed with the discovery that she was, in fact, deeply in love with him... and to her despair, she realised that it was a lost cause.
