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“Fitzwilliam is correct.” Georgiana moved to stand beside her brother, her voice firm for a girl usually so timid. “You must remain here at Pemberley. It is the least we can do to make amends for the atrocious behaviour of our hounds and staff. Please, say you will stay.”
Miss Elizabeth raised her head in immediate protest. “No. We could not possibly impose on your hospitality in such a manner. The inn at Lambton is comfortable. We shall manage the journey.”
She was scared. Darcy could see it in the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat, in the wide look she shot to the terrace doors. She wanted to escape him. The realisation stung, a bitter needle at his pride, but he refused to let her flee. He would not lose this opportunity.
“It is no imposition, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy replied, forcing his tone to remain smooth, devoid of the desperation clawing at his chest. “Pemberley boasts fifty empty bedchambers. We are staffed and equipped to manage a convalescence. Your uncle requires rest, and you require a proper place to wait out his recovery.”
“It is too much,” Miss Elizabeth insisted, shaking her head. “We are strangers to you.”
“You are guests on our land,” Darcy countered, taking a step closer to her. “And as the master of this estate, I cannot in good conscience allow an injured man to be jolted for five miles when a good bed is situated a few feet away.”
Mrs Gardiner placed a gentle, restraining hand on Miss Elizabeth’s arm. “Lizzy. Mr Darcy is right. Edward is in no condition to be moved, and the stairs at the Black Swan are terribly steep. We would be fools to refuse such generous hospitality when your uncle’s health is at stake.”
Miss Elizabeth looked at her aunt, then at her uncle, whose face was still contorted in pain. She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, she seemed defeated.
“We accept your generous offer, Mr Darcy. We are grateful.”
Darcy’s heart executed a soaring leap in his chest. She was staying. Miss Elizabeth was going to sleep beneath his roof. She was going to walk his halls and dine at his table. He clamped down hard on the fierce surge of joy, keeping his features carefully stoic.
“Excellent.” He turned to his housekeeper, who had been watching the exchange. “Mrs Reynolds. Please prepare the ground floor suite in the east wing for Mr and Mrs Gardiner. It will prevent Mr Gardiner from having to navigate any staircases.”
“Right away, sir.” Mrs Reynolds nodded efficiently. “And for the young lady?”
Darcy did not hesitate. “The green chamber in the west gallery.”
Mrs Reynolds blinked, her gaze snapping from Darcy to Miss Elizabeth, and then back to Darcy. The green chamber was located in the family wing, adjacent to Georgiana’s chamber.
The housekeeper offered a knowing nod. “The green chamber, sir. It shall be aired and readied.”
“Thank you,” Darcy replied, refusing to acknowledge the housekeeper’s subtle scrutiny. He turned back to the room at large. “Now, we must arrange for your belongings to be brought from the inn.”
He stepped into the passage, motioning for a footman. “Fetch Bates from the kitchens.”
Moments later, Bates crept back into the sitting-room as though walking to the gallows. He kept a wide berth from the wolfhounds, who were now snoring peacefully at Mr Gardiner’s side.
“I am so sorry, sir.” Bates whispered to Mr Gardiner, staring resolutely at his shoes. “I am so clumsy.”
Mr Gardiner waved a forgiving hand. “Nonsense, boy. I have tangled with hounds before. These things happen. No harm done in the long run.”
“Bates. You are tasked with an errand of great importance. You will take the estate cart into Lambton. You will go to the Black Swan and collect the trunks belonging to our guests. A groom will drive the phaeton back to Lambton. You will bring the trunks back to Pemberley without losing a single bandbox on your way. Am I understood?” Darcy said sternly.
Bates’s chest puffed out, his despair replaced by a zeal to prove his worth. “Yes, sir! The trunks, sir! I shall guard them with my life! They shall arrive pristine and unbothered!”
He executed a bow so deep it appeared he might snap himself in half. He spun on his heel to begin his mission, forgetting the footstool situated behind him.
His shin collided with the wood. He stumbled, his arms windmilling before he miraculously caught his balance on the doorframe, releasing a high squeak.
He offered the room an apologetic grin before disappearing down the hall.
Darcy closed his eyes with a sigh. Beside him, he heard Miss Elizabeth release a stifled sound.
He opened his eyes. Everyone in the room—Mr Gardiner, Mrs Gardiner, Georgiana, and Miss Elizabeth—was looking at the empty doorway, rolling their eyes heavenward in unison.
The chaos had officially moved into Pemberley. And Darcy, staring at the amused curve of Miss Elizabeth’s lips, decided he would not have it any other way.
Chapter Five: Sisterly Confidences and Antique Conveyances
The grand staircase of Pemberley House swept upward in a curving arc of polished oak and wrought iron, an architectural marvel designed to inspire awe in anyone ascending its steps. Elizabeth followed behind Miss Darcy, her hand trailing along the smooth banister. The scale of the house was dizzying. Portraits of stern-faced ancestors lined the walls, their painted eyes seeming to track her progress.
