“I speak as though I would have spared you this moment.”
“I would not have been easily persuaded.”
“No. But I should have tried.”
“You are mine in every way that matters. That will not be altered by distance, nor by any demand made upon you.”
He raised her hands and pressed them briefly to his lips.
“All will be well.”
When Elizabeth returned, Mrs. Gardiner drew her close at once.
“My dear child—”
“It is nothing,” Elizabeth said. “Or if it is something, it will soon be explained.”
“I shall go with you,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “And remain, if it is necessary. I shall not leave you to manage it alone.”
Mr. Gardiner, who had been watching them both, spoke more quietly. “You will not be without support. Mr. Darcy has arranged matters too carefully for that. I have no fear he will fail you.”
Preparations began almost immediately. Engagements were altered, trunks called for, messages sent; and by the following morning they were upon the road. The journey passed without incident. Once or twice Mrs. Gardiner attempted conversation, but it soon fell away again.
As the carriage drew up before the house, the Longbourn chaise was already turning toward the stables, its purpose superseded. Mr. Darcy's second carriage followed close behind, carrying his servant, luggage, and the horses he intended to use during his stay. The footman descended and lowered the steps, but no one came. Then, from the corner of his eye, Darcy caught the movement of a curtain drawn aside and as hastily dropped. Elizabeth had seen it too.
Darcy offered his hand without remark. She accepted it, her chin lifted a fraction more than was strictly necessary, and descended to the gravel. He handed Mrs. Gardiner down next.The front door opened with considerably more enthusiasm than the occasion required. Something in her expression closed, very slightly, as though against a draught she had long since learned to expect.
“Good heavens, what carriage is that?”
Mrs. Bennet appeared first upon the step, her attention moving at once between the equipage and the tall gentleman who stood beside Lizzy. Lydia pressed close behind her, then Kitty and Mary. Jane came last.
Mrs. Bennet took in the second carriage, the quantity of luggage, the horses that were clearly not hired, and the fact that Lizzy had arrived at her own door in a stranger's equipage when the Longbourn chaise had been sent expressly to prevent any such thing.
“Lizzy,” she said, taking her daughter's hands, “the carriage was sent to meet you. That has always been the arrangement.”
“The arrangements were altered, ma'am. There was no opportunity to write ahead. I am sorry for the inconvenience.”
Mrs. Bennet looked from Elizabeth to Mrs. Gardiner, and from Mrs. Gardiner to the gentleman who had not yet been explained.
“Mother,” said Jane.
Mr. Bennet had appeared in the doorway. He came forward with his usual composure, though his attention settled upon Darcy at once.
“Mrs. Gardiner,” he said, “since you have returned my daughter in a manner somewhat different from what I had reason to expect, you will perhaps oblige me by introducing the gentleman who has conveyed you.”
Mrs. Gardiner did not hesitate. “Mr. Darcy, allow me to present Mr. Bennet and his family.” She named them each in careful order. Then, turning back, she added, “Mr. Darcy, my godmother's son.”
Mr. Bennet glanced at Mrs. Gardiner, as though he understood rather more than she had said. The ladies curtseyed.Darcy inclined his head. Mr. Bennet regarded him for a moment before returning the civility.
Lydia had been studying Darcy with the frank appreciation she brought to all handsome newcomers, and her conclusion was swift and entirely uncomplicated. He was the most striking man she had ever seen arrive at Longbourn, and she said so, in an undertone to Kitty that was not quite as private as she intended.
Kitty agreed with her eyes before she agreed with anything else. She stole another glance, coloured slightly, and then looked at Elizabeth instead, with an expression that asked something she did not put into words and received no answer for. Mary observed the whole with the expression of one whose principles were, at least, consistent.
Elizabeth had not looked at Darcy since she stepped from the carriage. She had warned him, as honestly as she could, of what Longbourn was, and believed herself prepared for his reception. Standing before the house with him now, she found the reality less easy than the anticipation. Mrs. Gardiner drew quietly to her side, and together they entered the house.
The parlour held two gentlemen. One rose at once.
“Darcy!” said Mr. Bingley, with the easy warmth of a man whom nothing had yet taught to be guarded. “You are early. I had not looked for you for another few days.”
