Page 5

Darcy sighed, adjusting his cuffs. “Let us go and discover what fresh trouble she has imported from Lambton.”

They walked around to the main entrance. The doors of the manor opened, and Martin, the Pemberley butler, stepped out onto the portico. Two footmen hurried down to assist the arriving party.

One of the footmen was Bates. The young, tall lad had an earnest disposition and limbs that operated independently of his brain. He rushed to the lead carriage, his shoes slipping slightly on the gravel. He managed to catch his balance, pulling the door open with far more force than necessary, nearly wrenching it from its hinges.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh descended the folding steps. She looked triumphant, her chin angled upward in an expression of supreme satisfaction.

Mrs Jenkinson fluttered out next, extending a trembling arm to assist Anne.

Darcy prepared to offer a polite, distant greeting.

Lady Catherine spotted him, her volume increasing to fill the courtyard. “Fitzwilliam! I have accomplished a great deed this afternoon. I have rescued acquaintances from a dilapidated, mutton-scented inn in the village. The squalor was unacceptable!”

Darcy halted. Acquaintances?

The second carriage door opened. Bates, having abandoned the de Bourgh vehicle, rushed to assist the occupants. He extended a white-gloved hand.

A young woman stepped down. She wore a simple, elegant travelling gown of green muslin. A sudden warm breeze caught the brim of her bonnet, revealing a pair of fine, dark eyes and a countenance that had haunted every single one of Darcy’s waking thoughts for two uninterrupted months.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Darcy’s brain ceased to function. The lovely façade of Pemberley, the gravel, the trees; everything dissolved into a meaningless, roaring blur. He stared at her, utterly paralysed by the sheer impossibility of her presence. It was an illusion. It had to be a cruel trick of his exhausted mind. He had spent hours wandering the estate imagining her walking beside him, but she could not truly be here. She was in Hertfordshire. She was miles away, despising him from a safe distance.

Yet, she blinked and adjusted her shawl. She was undeniably real.

Darcy experienced a total collapse of his faculties. His intellect abandoned him, leaving behind nothing but emptiness. He stared at the hem of her gown, unable to form a single coherent word. He could barely command his lungs to draw air.

Lady Catherine’s booming proclamation shattered his stupor.

“We have guests, Fitzwilliam!” Lady Catherine gestured grandly to the young woman. “I found Miss Elizabeth at the Black Swan. She is a gentleman’s daughter, and as your future mother-in-law, I cannot allow someone of my acquaintance to languish in a hovel when Pemberley has fifty empty bedchambers!”

The words future mother-in-law hovered in the air like a hot air balloon.

Darcy observed with dread Miss Elizabeth flinching, her gaze dropping to the ground. Did she believe he had agreed to marry Anne since their last meeting in Kent?

He had to recover his shattered wits immediately. He could not allow his aunt to dictate this, nor could he allow Miss Elizabeth to feel unwelcome or insulted on his land.

Summoning every ounce of composure his upbringing had instilled in him, he forced his frozen limbs into motion, closing the distance separating them. He stopped three paces away from her and executed a sweeping bow, dipping far lower than mere courtesy required.

“Miss Elizabeth.” Darcy pitched his tone carefully, struggling to maintain a calm and steady resonance while his heart threatened to beat its way out of his chest. “This is a most unexpected, yet welcome, surprise. I am honoured to receive you at Pemberley.”

She curtsied, the movement graceful but tense. When she rose, she avoided his gaze, a mortified flush staining her cheeks.

“Mr Darcy,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I must apologise for this sudden intrusion. We had no intention of imposing on your hospitality.”

“It is no imposition whatsoever.” Darcy turned his attention to the older couple emerging from the carriage. The gentleman had a jovial countenance, while the lady exuded a calm, practical elegance.

Miss Elizabeth gestured to them. “May I present my uncle and aunt, Mr and Mrs Edward Gardiner of London.”

Darcy offered another flawless bow. These were the relatives from Cheapside. The very people he had disparaged during his proposal. He felt a sharp pang of shame, instantly determining to treat them with the utmost reverence. He would prove to her that he was capable of conquering his own prejudices.

“Mr Gardiner. Mrs Gardiner.” Darcy offered a warm, genuine smile. “I am honoured to welcome you to Derbyshire.”

“The honour is ours, Mr Darcy,” Mr Gardiner said, returning the bow. The merchant glanced to the retreating form of Lady Catherine, who was marching up the steps with Anne in tow. “Though I fear we have been swept up in a rather forceful current. I must reiterate my niece’s apology. We were quite settled at the Black Swan.”

“Lady Catherine is a force of nature, sir.” Darcy kept his tone light, attempting to lighten the awkwardness. He allowed his gaze to drift back to Miss Elizabeth, pouring all the reassurance he could muster into his expression. “When she determines a course of action, resistance is generally futile. However, I am grateful for her persistence today. You are most welcome to spend as much time at Pemberley as you desire. I insist on it.”

Miss Elizabeth lifted her chin, regarding him for a fleeting second. He saw the confusion in her eyes, mingled with embarrassment. She was trapped here, dragged onto the estate of a man she loathed, contrary to her wishes.