Page 9 of A Different Impression

In the distance, he saw a small hill and remembered that Elizabeth had mentioned walking to a high spot often. Oak-something, he thought. He wondered if that was the spot she had mentioned. Whilst not as high as the peaks in his native Derbyshire, it looked like a fair prospect, and he set out towards it. If he were lucky, Miss Elizabeth would have walked out this morning as well, and he would encounter her. However, it was probably much too early for her, especially after an assembly that had lasted until midnight.

As he moved in that direction, he saw signs that others were awake and moving about. He spied some tenant farms in the distance, wondering if they were tenants of Longbourn or Netherfield. Elizabeth had mentioned to her sister something that needed to be done for one of the tenants on their estate. That was another reason she would make a remarkable Mistress of Pemberley; she already knew what was required of the wife of an estate owner. His own mother had done much for their tenants during her lifetime, and Georgiana was slowly taking over some of those duties. However, she lacked the necessary guidance to take on the role fully, and she was still young.

A little-worn path led towards the top of the hill that he believed Miss Elizabeth had called Oakham Mount last night. His horse started up the trail, and through the trees came the faintest suggestion of movement. Near the summit, the path joined another, and Elizabeth stepped out from the woods just ahead of him.

For a moment, her sudden appearance stunned him, as did the rush of feeling that swept through him at the sight.

“Good morning,” he called out when he regained his senses. “I would not have expected you to be out this early.”

“Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, smiling broadly at his greeting.

Relief stole over him. He had half expected her to regret the familiarity of the previous evening, yet she greeted him with the same easy warmth she had shown at the assembly.

She was still speaking, and he forced himself to pay attention to her words. “Good morning to you as well. I am often out walking this early—the rising sun makes it hard to stay abed, irrespective of what time I found it.”

An image danced quickly in Darcy’s mind of Elizabeth in his bed. He shook his head to clear it and noticed that Elizabeth seemed to shy away from being too close to him.

He started to dismount but wondered if that was the best choice. Although she smiled at him, she had not taken any steps forward and seemed to be eyeing him a bit warily.

“I had thought of joining you,” he said to her, “but I do not wish to make you uncomfortable with my presence.”

“It is not your presence making me uncomfortable; it is him,” she said, indicating his large horse.

“You do not care for horses, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy enquired.

“Horses make me nervous,” she admitted softly. “I was nearly trampled as a child and have been leery of the beasts since.”

“Let me tie him to this tree over here,” he offered in an attempt to give her relief. “I assure you that he is a gentle thing and would appreciate any attention you would be willing to bestow on him. I do hope you will let me introduce you to him one day soon.”

“I will consider it,” she said, still wary of the big horse. She seemed less wary of him than of the horse, though she still appeared uneasy at encountering him alone.

It was hardly a promise, yet he found himself absurdly pleased by it.

For several minutes, they were both quiet as they looked out over the early morning landscape.

“You mentioned the view from here last night,” Darcy said, by way of explaining his presence, “and since I typically ride in the mornings when I am in the country, I thought I might begin my inspection of Bingley’s estate. No one at Netherfield was awake yet, and I had assumed the same would be true at Longbourn.”

“My father is also an early riser,” Elizabeth stated, “although he’s rarely afield this time of day. Typically, he is already in his library reading or going over the accounts. He prefers to ride out later, if at all. My sisters and I often walk to check on the tenants, but they will not accompany me until after breakfast.”

“It is good of you to visit Longbourn’s tenants,” Darcy said. “My mother did that as well; my sister Georgiana has begun learning to make tenant visits with Pemberley’s housekeeper and my steward, although I believe there are many things that Mother did that she is not learning due to the lack of a true mistress of my homes.”

His look turned slightly contemplative at this thought. Few young ladies of his acquaintance spoke of tenants with such practical familiarity. Miss Elizabeth seemed already accustomed to thinking beyond her own amusement.

Elizabeth’s expressive eyes widened. After the briefest hesitation, she said, “Tell me about Pemberley, sir. I cannot wait to visit Derbyshire and its environs…”

There, she paused, a blush rising in her cheeks as she seemed to realise what her words might suggest. She did not look at him but hurried on.

“I have heard of the area for years from my aunt by marriage, who grew up in Lambton, and I had a letter from her yesterday inviting me to go north with her and my uncle this summer. They plan to visit the Lake District, with a stop in her hometown to see some acquaintances who still reside there. I am most anxious to travel with them.”

Darcy was inordinately pleased by the thought of Miss Elizabeth visiting his home. Before he could stop himself, another image followed close behind—that of welcoming her there not merely as a guest but as mistress of the estate. The absurdity of the notion made him suppress a smile. They had known one another scarcely a day.

“Lambton is only five miles from Pemberley,” he said, unable to keep the warmth from his voice. “Pemberley has been in my family for generations, and I believe Derbyshire to be the loveliest county in England. If you enjoy this prospect, I am certain you will find many in Derbyshire to equal or surpass it.”

“My aunt claims the same,” Elizabeth said, risking a glance up at him, “and I look forward to seeing for myself how it compares to Hertfordshire. Aunt Madeline has praised Derbyshire and the Peak District so often that I can hardly wait to explore it thoroughly.”

“If you enjoy walking, you will enjoy visiting there,” Darcy told her. “While Hertfordshire is everything lovely, the Peak District and Derbyshire are very different from the southern parts of England. Undoubtedly, you would enjoy traipsing through the moors and traversing the heights. Mam Tor is a particular favourite of mine and a place I have often visited.”

“That does sound wonderful,” she enthused. “I have rarely had the opportunity to travel aside from once- or twice-yearly jaunts to London to visit my aunt and uncle. Papa hates to travel nearly as much as he hates Town, and he absolutely refuses to go except for rare trips to Hatchards or another bookseller. He would never leave his library if that were a possibility, but alas, he suffers through visiting with the steward and his tenants when absolutely necessary.” This last was said archly with the slightest hint of criticism for her lackadaisical father.