“Georgiana, it was not my choosing, but Elizabeth’s giving—’tis she who has given you a sister. Not I.”
“William, we will not quarrel for the greater share of blame for Georgiana’s felicity,” cried Elizabeth, laughing. “I believe that any resistance on my part is long forgot. Truth be told, while I have four sisters already, I find the thought of another very welcome, very welcome indeed.”
Later, as all the party settled into cheerful conversation, Mrs. Gardiner sat beside Elizabeth on the settee and said, in a low voice intended only for her niece, “Are you happy, my dear?”
“I am,” said Elizabeth, and the simplicity of it, the absence of any qualification, was answer enough.
“Then I am satisfied.” Mrs. Gardiner pressed her hand and said no more on the subject.
* * *
Later that evening, Elizabeth made her way upstairs to the guest chamber, for, naturally, she and the Gardiners had been invitedto stay at Pemberley. Darcy had remained in the drawing-room, talking softly with Mr. Gardiner. Mrs. Gardiner, Georgiana, and Mrs. Annesley had already retired.
As Elizabeth ascended the stairs, she felt thoughts once again swirl around her, like those on first coming to the house. Absently, she turned towards the family rooms, rather than the guest rooms they had been allocated. She did not notice it, for she had made this journey a hundred times before. Accustomed as she was, to dressing herself on her travels with the Gardiners, and entering rooms whose chill had not been removed by a welcoming fire, she undressed, brushed out her hair, and climbed into the bed, pulling up the coverlet and falling almost immediately into a deep, though restless sleep.
Darcy, in the adjacent master bedroom, heard the creaking of the bed, the rustle of linen sheets. Puzzled, he opened the adjoining door. The soft glow of a glass encased nightlight illuminated the bed. There she lay, the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance. Her chestnut hair splayed haphazardly over the pillow; her perfect lips closed; her lightly freckled cheeks adorned by dark eyelashes.
“She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes.”
Darcy quietly locked the door between his and the mistress’s bedroom. Then he returned to his room by the corridor. There was no impropriety—but he longed to hold her in his arms, this delightful, lovely, yet so vulnerable, woman.
* * *
Chapter 22
Longbourn
It was not a trial to do so, but Elizabeth found she needed always to be alert as to whether her memories of the house were of past or future events. Her embarrassment having woken in the mistress’s chamber was soon forgotten, for the door to the adjoining chamber was locked, thus she was saved the possibility of yet another scandal.
They remained a fortnight at Pemberley, before reluctantly setting out for Longbourn where Jane, Mr. Bennet and the Gardiners’ children would meet them. She had written to her father and Jane of her betrothal to Darcy, but asked that they keep it close until they all had reunited at Longbourn.
They arrived at Longbourn on a Thursday, in the early afternoon, when Mr. Bennet was in his library and Mrs. Bennet was at her needlework. Jane and the children were in the garden.
Mrs. Bennet, upon hearing the carriage, was the first to stir, and had reached the front hall before Hill could open the door. She embraced Elizabeth with rather more warmth than was her custom, and looked so steadily over her daughter’s shoulder at Mr. Darcy that Elizabeth was put to the blush.
“Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Bennet, releasing her daughter at last, “you are very welcome at Longbourn, I am sure.” The civility, though strained, was genuine enough, for Mrs. Bennet had not forgotten that Pemberley was a very large house, andone must always be polite to single wealthy gentlemen, most likely in need of a wife.
Mr. Darcy bowed with his usual composure and expressed himself gratified to be received so kindly. Elizabeth caught his eye and found there the faintest suggestion of amusement, which she was obliged to answer with a look of reproach.
Mr. Bennet, having heard the commotion from his library, appeared in the doorway of that room and regarded the party with the mild curiosity of a man who has long since ceased to be surprised by anything his family might produce. He shook Darcy’s hand with more warmth than his expression suggested.
“Well, Lizzy,” said he, drawing her aside. “I find I must congratulate you, though I confess I had not expected it. You wrote so briefly on the subject that I was uncertain whether to believe it.”
“You may believe it entirely, Papa.”
“Then I shall.” He studied her a moment. “And you are happy?”
“Very much so.”
“That is all I wished to know.” He glanced toward Darcy, who was enduring Mrs. Bennet’s enquiries after Pemberley’s grounds with admirable patience.
“He seems a tolerable sort of man, when one has had sufficient time to discover it.”
